Joyeux Noel
by Aerenii
Summary: Simonne has a surprise for Richard, but it's another surprise entirely that might lead to their final adieu
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: That you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. I really appreciate it. A little more Richard/Simonne. No idea how long this one will be. But I hope you enjoy. **

_**December, 1921 Paris, France**_

Richard stood, staring at the Opera House, still as stunned by its beauty as he had been when he had first seen it over three years before. And while he had seen many things since then, nothing could rival the structure before him.

He was mindful of the crowd moving around him. The performance was due to start soon, and it was cold and lightly snowing, so people were moving quickly inside. Richard lingered a few moments more, until a snowflake fell into his ear, sending a cold shiver down his spine. He wiped the moisture from his ear and went in, pulling his hat from his head as he crossed the threshold.

And found himself gawking at the ornate opulence.

The crowd moved around him as he stood still, trying so hard to absorb every little detail...the staircase, the statues holding lights, the columns, the ceiling...so many things to take in, he would need a week to study just the lobby.

"Excuse-moi, Monsieur Harrow?"

Richard pulled his eye from the ceiling, looking at the man who had addressed him.

"Mm, yes?"

"Good evening, monsieur. Mademoiselle Delacroix has arranged a box for you zis evening. If you will follow, s'il vous plait?"

Richard nodded and followed the man. He tried to look everywhere while he walked, but it proved too difficult. They walked up the grand staircase, down a beautiful hallway, up another flight of stairs, down another hallway. The man stopped and held aside a heavy curtain, showing Richard in with his hand.

"Enjoy ze ballet, monsieur," he said to Richard as Richard stepped into the box.

"Thank you," Richard said. The man gave a small bow, let the curtain fall closed, and walked away.

Richard removed his coat and draped it over the back of a chair, then stepped to the railing and looked out onto the room to take in the details.

He had read "The Phantom of the Opera', first on the train to Belgium, the copy Simonne had given him, and again on the steamer over, a copy he had bought before leaving New York, to refresh his memory. He had to admit, the details in the story, vivid as they were, didn't quite do justice. There was a majesty to the place that words just couldn't capture.

The lights dimmed briefly, the performance would soon begin. Richard sat down and waited patiently, something he was quite good at. He had never been to a ballet, had never had a desire to see a ballet, but he was quite looking forward to seeing Simonne dance.

He heard voices in the hallway behind him, glanced over his shoulder and saw the curtain twitch.

"Enjoy ze ballet, mademoiselle."

Richard quickly stood and smoothed his jacket. He wondered who he would be sharing the box with this evening? One of Simonne's friends?

"Emma?" he said, shocked, as he saw her face.

"Richard?"

The Harrow twins gaped at each other, stunned to no end.

"What are you doing here?" they both asked..

"Simonne...," was the simultaneous reply.

They both blinked and stood in an awkward silence. Around them, the sound was of the audience settling down, and the orchestra going through it's final warm-ups. Emma moved nervously to the other chair and sat down on the very edge. Richard did the same.

There was so much that needed to be said. They both knew it. But neither of them knew where to start. They were both nervously rubbing one thumb along the back of the other. Habits and mannerisms formed in their childhood still held, a reminder of how close they had once been.

They were interrupted in their silence by the same man who had escorted Richard to the box.

"Mademoiselle. Monsieur," he said, handing each one an envelope. He gave a low bow and backed out of the box, drawing the thick curtain behind him.

Emma and Richard looked at each other curiously then down at their envelopes.

The one in Richard's hand said _Emma _

"I think. This is, mm. Yours," he said, holding out the envelope to her.

"Trade," Emma said. They switched envelopes, then Emma tore hers open. Richard followed suit.

They read, and met each other's eyes.

"What does yours say?" Emma asked.

"She, mm. Still love. You, mon chér. Deal... With it."

"Ah. I got 'He has changed, soeur de mon coeur, deal with it.'" Emma looked down at her hands briefly, then back at her brother. "Which I guess is her way of saying I messed things up pretty bad when you were home."

"No," Richard said, with a shake of his head. "You, mm. Didn't. I wasn't in. a good place, mm. Mentally, then. And I. Don't think anything, mm. You would have. Done would have, mm. Helped. I needed. Mm, time to sort. Through...everything. I...Emma, I'm. Sorry I, mm. Left, like I did. You did. Mm, your best. To help me. But at, mm, that time. I wasn't able. To see, mm. Myself as. Anything other than. This," he said, tapping his mask lightly. "You treated me. Like nothing, mm. Had changed..."

"Nothing had changed," Emma protested. Richard shook his head again, cutting her off.

"It had. Changed. _ I_ had, mm. Changed. And it...frustrated me. That you, mm. Acted like I hadn't."

"Why didn't you say anything, then?" Emma asked.

"I couldn't. I, mm. Didn't understand. What was going. On, mm. Inside of me. Well enough to. Explain it."

"Do you now?"

"Sometimes," Richard replied. "Simonne, mm. Ran into me, about. Six months ago..."

Emma nodded. "She wrote me, when she got back to Paris. She said she didn't know if you were ready for me to know where you were, so she wouldn't tell me that. But she said she wanted me to know that you were still alive, if not all right."

"When she found me, mm. I was...at a low point. A few weeks, mm. Before, I had...tried to. Kill myself." He noticed his sister's gasp but barreled over it. He did not need a lecture right now. "Things were just...overwhelming, mm. And nothing seemed to. Be going like, mm. It should have been. Then, there was Simonne. She, mm. Scolded me. For never reading...that letter she wrote, mm. Then more or less. Told me, mm. To stop feeling. So sorry, mm. For myself. And to. Stop hiding from. The world." A small smile turned up the corner of Richard's mouth, the first one Emma had seen on her brother's face since before he left for training in New York so long ago.

Richard went on to explain, as best he could, how Simonne had really made him think about things. Because he felt the world would not accept him because of his injuries, he built a wall around himself, protection from rejection. But that wall kept him from feeling anything for anyone as well. It took him a long time to truly understand this, he explained to her. "Sometimes, mm. I have to fight. To keep the wall. From, mm. Coming back up. Sometimes, I fail. But I, mm. Keep trying. And that's. All I can, mm. do."

Emma tilted her head slightly and regarded her brother for a long moment. This was certainly not the shattered man she had last seen. No, he wasn't back to being the beloved twin she had seen off at the station after he enlisted. She supposed that man was long gone. But there was a peace about Richard now that hadn't been there when she last saw him, as if healing had finally begun.

"Simonne, mm. Also made me. See that, I shouldn't, mm. Have to fit myself. To the world. That if, mm. People can't accept me. The way I am, mm. The it's their problem. Mm, not mine."

Emma chewed on her bottom lip while she absorbed all of it. Here she was, half-way around the world with the brother she thought she might never see again. He was actually talking to her, actually looking at her like he recognized her, which is more than he had done during those few months between the time he came home and the time he left. She was happy that he seemed to be on the way to finding himself again.

"It's, mm. Good to see. You," Richard said, intruding on her thoughts. Emma gave a small shake of her head and smiled at him.

"It's good to see you, too," she said. "When Simonne wrote to me, telling me I was coming to Paris for Christmas because she had a surprise for me,...well, I honestly wasn't expecting it to be you."

"Me, either, mm. She told me, mm. That you two correspond. Regularly, but I, mm. Didn't think. You'd gotten so, mm. Close."

"When she was in Chicago, with the ballet, I took a train down, and met her. She's such a...delightful woman! Within five minutes of meeting, she was calling me her 'sister of the heart', and had me talking about myself like we'd known each other forever."

Richard couldn't help but laugh, since Simonne had done the same thing to him. The Harrow twins talked for a good long while, first about Simonne, then Richard got Emma to tell him what she how she had been doing, how life on the farm was going, and he told her a very little bit about what his life was like. He gave her none of the gritty details, just that he was working for an 'up-and comer' that he had met in the veteran's hospital. Emma could sense there was a great deal he wasn't telling her, but she did not push the issue.

They continued to talk, conversation turning to things from their youth, and they completely lost track of time.

"I see zat ze two of you have gotten on quite well."

Emma and Richard both looked back. Standing there by the curtain was Simonne, a happy smile on her face. The Harrows stood, and Simonne stepped into the box, first stepping up to Emma and embracing her, giving her the traditional greeting of a kiss on each cheek.

"Bienvenue à Paris, soeur de mon coeur," she said to Emma with a fond smile.

"Et tu, mon chér," she said, hugging Richard, kissing each of his cheeks as well. "It is good zat you are here again."

She stepped back and looked at the two of them standing side by side. They did indeed have the same eyes. Emma's chin was a bit rounder, her cheeks a bit more defined. But it was obvious they were brother and sister, and as Simonne regarded them, she noticed they both glanced down at their feet, tucked a lock of hair behind their right ear and glance back at her in perfect synchronization. She felt her smile widen. She truly hoped the distance between Emma and Richard could be bridged. It had been a big risk to arrange things so that they would have to spend so much time alone, but she had enough faith in whatever bond they had coming to the fore.

"Come!" Simonne said merrily, clapping her hands together. "We will be late if we do not hurry, and Etienne will be cross with me for ruining his dinner." Emma and Richard put on their coats and followed Simonne out of the box.

"Who is Etienne?" Emma asked curiously.

"Etienne is my brother," Simonne said, looping one arm through Richard's and the other through Emma's and leading them out of the Opera. "I zink you will like him. He is very much like me, except zat he does not talk as much. He says it is because I never give him ze chance." She looked at Richard and they shared a smile at the running joke. "Now, did you enjoy ze ballet?"

"Um, well..." Emma glanced over at her brother. _What do we say? _Her look said.

"We, mm. Didn't see it," Richard answered.

"We got involved in talking," Emma added. "And it just didn't dawn on us that we were missing it. I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize for zings zat do not need apologizing for," Simonne said with a laugh. "To be honest, I was hoping zat would happen. Alzough I will bet zat you sat in silence for a while, oui?"

"Yes," Emma and Richard replied at the same time.

"And of course, because I am ze most fascinating zing you have in common, you talked about me."

Richard knew Simonne was joking, but Emma did not, and she gave the ballerina a wide eyed stare.

"She's. Joking, mm," Richard said told her. Emma watched as he smiled at Simonne, his eye crinkling just slightly there at the corner. Emma felt an unpleasant twist somewhere inside of her when she realized there was more between her brother and the French woman than just mere friendship.

"Oui," Simonne said. "But it did occur to me zat ze two of you would have a better chance of... re-acquainting...if you were someplace zat is not...where you are most comfortable being. Also, I admit, I wanted to see both of you again. So my motives are _un peu_ selfish." She gave a squeeze on each of their arms, began chattering about nothing in particular, and led them to her brother's flat.


	2. Chapter 2

"Etienne?" Simonne called as she opened the door. "We are here!"

"Bon!" came the call from the kitchen. "Come in! Be comfortable! I will be zere soon."

Simonne ushered the Harrows in, and took their coats, hanging them on the rack behind the door, along with her own.

"Please, sit," Simonne said. Emma tentatively sat on the edge of the plush sofa. Richard waited for Simonne to sit in a chair across the coffee table, then sat beside his sister.

"I am very glad both of you came," Simonne said, smiling at them both. "And I hope, by the time you leave, you will both be glad you came, too." Emma and Richard shared a look that led to a small smile on their parts. Before either of them could say anything, a heavy thudding sounded in the hallway, approaching the living room.

"Bienvenue, mes amis!" Richard and Emma stood to greet their host.

"Mademoiselle_ Air-oh," _Etienne said as he took Emma's hand and kissed the back of it. "Simonne ne m'a pas dit que vous étiez si charmant." Emma felt herself blushing despite not knowing what he had just said.

"Thank you for having us, Mr. Delacroix," she managed to get out.

"S'il vous plait, you must call me Etienne," he insisted. "We are all friends here, oui?"

"I believe we are," Emma said as a girlish grin spread across her face. Etienne smiled at her and then turned to Richard.

"And you, I have heard so much about you zat I feel as if I have known you my whole life, so I will skip straight to calling you Richard," he said as he shook Richard's hand.

"Nice to, mm. Meet you...Etienne," Richard replied. Simonne was right, Etienne was a lot like her, same easy manner, utter lack of formality, and a quick smile. Without their realizing it, Etienne had led them into the dining room while he discussed what he had made for dinner. Etienne held a chair at the table out for Emma, they had easily fallen into a conversation about fresh cream and when Etienne discovered Emma could churn butter, he began questioning her relentlessly on the topic. Richard pulled a chair out for Simonne, then took a seat beside her. For dinner, Etienne had thrown together some chicken, vegetables, and rice in a cream sauce, with a slightly sweet red wine. Emma looked at the glass of wine uncomfortably.

"Oh! Je m'excuse, ma chérie!" Etienne said. "You do not drink. Une minute, s'il vous plait. I will get for you some water."

"No, it's not that," Emma said. "But isn't it..." She broke off, then gave a small laugh. "I'm sorry. For a moment, I forgot we're in a country that hasn't made alcohol illegal."

"Alcohol is illegal in Amérique?" Simonne asked, her eyes mockingly wide. "You could not tell zis at ze parties we attended." The look on her face was silly, and no one could keep a straight face at her sarcastic tone, least of all Richard, who had helped to get the liquor to some of those parties.

Not that anyone at the table needed to know that.

Etienne raised his glass for a toast. "To new friends," he said, nodding at Emma. "To sisters who will always give zeir love and support," this, with a nod to Simonne. "And to brothers, who always give zeir spirit and strength," he finished with a nod to Richard. Glasses clinked together as the toast was echoed, and each took a sip (Richard had found a straw waiting for him next to his fork. The thoughtfulness touched him) of wine.

Dinner was delicious, the wine flowed freely, and soon stories were being told.

"Emma," Richard said to his sister, who's cheeks had taken on a slight flush from the wine. "Do you...remember when, mm. Dad..took us fishing the first time. And all, you managed. To catch was the maple tree, mm. The truck, and me?"

"Oh! That was a horrible day! You see," she said to Simonne and Etienne. "Dad was teaching us to cast, and while Richard got it right off the bat, I didn't have as much luck at first. Like Richard said, I managed to snag a tree, then the fender of the truck, and on my third cast..."

"She ended up, mm. Catching me with. The hook, here, mm" he said, rubbing a spot on his head, slightly on the right side, and just a hair back of, the crown.

"Of course, I had no idea what I was caught on, so I gave as big a tug as I could," Emma said. "And all of a sudden, Richard is screaming bloody murder..."

"Because it, mm. Felt like you. Were scalping me."

"Which is exactly what Mom accused me of trying to do, when we got home and she first saw all the blood..."

"Mm, right before she. Told Dad he...didn't have the sense. God gave a rock. Since, mm...he didn't think. To try to remove the hook. Or cut the line..."

"Or take the pole from me."

"Mom puts me, mm. Up on a stool, and tries to, mm. Pull the hook out..."

"But she's so distraught that her boy is bleeding all over the kitchen that she's not being very gentle. Poor Richard is holding onto the stool for dear life, this look of agony on his face, and he keeps saying 'Leave it in, Mom. Just leave it in. It'll fall out..."

"Mom gave, mm. One last tug. And that was. Were I fainted."

"And that's when Mom decided I should learn how to stitch shallow head wounds," Emma said, wiping tears from her eyes from laughing so hard.

Simonne sat back with a smile on her face as she watched Richard and Emma tell their story, pleased with the ease with which the Harrow twins were able to flow to conversation together, instantly picking up the other's train of thought. She couldn't help but be pleased with herself for reuniting the two. She knew it was something they both wanted, but neither of them knew how to go about it...Emma didn't know where Richard was, and Richard was afraid that either Emma harbored resentment, or he would look at her and still feel nothing.

Simonne had more faith than that, and with Etienne's help had managed to get them both across the ocean. They couldn't risk having Emma and Richard on the same steamer over...it would have ruined the surprise if they had run into each other on the ship! So it took quite a lot of planning to find two ships that were leaving at roughly the same time so both Harrows would arrive just in time to check into their hotels (separate, again...Simonne could easily picture the twins trying to hail the same cab to the Opera house) change, and get to the Opera house in time for the performance.

But it had worked out well, if Richard and Emma weren't as close as they had been as children, at least there was still enough of the bond there that they were able to converse, and laugh, and share looks that spoke volumes to only them. They might never get back what they had once had, Simonne knew, but she also knew that they needed whatever they did end up with.

A slight lull in the conversation prompted Simonne to stand and gather up the dirty dishes, Emma offering to help. Once the ladies had stepped out of the room, Etienne regarded Richard warmly as he refilled their wine glasses.

"Zis surprise of Simonne's, it is agreeable for you, oui?" Etienne asked, jumping into a discussion without preamble, much like his sister was wont to do.

"Mm, yes," Richard said, picking up his glass, looking at the way the light played through the wine. "Simonne always seems. To know...just what, mm. A person needs. How, mm. Does she do it?"

"Je ne sais pas, mon frere," Etienne replied with a shake of his head. "It is how she has always been. I do not think she herself knows. She has just always been able to make people happy." Etienne studied Richard for a moment, particularly the mask, and the scars, before he said "Did she give you ze 'You are alive and zat is more zan ozers can say' speech?"

"Yes," Richard said, taking a drink of his wine. "She was, mm. Right, though. And she. Made me come out of the, mm. Pool of misery. I had, mm. Been wallowing in. For years."

"When I came home, I was finding it difficult to adjust," Etienne said. "I went from one day, being in ze army, to ze next day, in l'hôpital, missing my leg, my back burnt to a crisp, and zen suddenly, I was home. Simonne gave me a week, zen marched in, told me zat I lost a leg, a little skin from my back, not my life, and I had been sitting long enough feeling sorry for myself, so it was time zat I get up, and if I did not mind too terribly, cook her breakfast." Etienne chuckled, swallowed his wine and gave a small shake of his head at the memory. "I did not feel like not feeling sorry for myself...you know zis feeling, oui? Where you zink it is not worth ze trouble to come out of ze darkness? So, I told Simonne to, as you Americans say, kiss my ass. She put her hands on her hips and said zat in order to do so, I would have to stand up first, but since I seemed disinclined to do so, she was going to make her own breakfast. Ze sound of her banging pots is what got me moving."

"You, mm, realized she was right?"

"Not at zat moment, non. I did not want her burning ze house down. Simonne is a wonderful woman, oui, mais...she can not cook and should not be allowed near a stove. She managed to ruin ze kitchen in her apartment while trying to make tea... Mais, once I was up and getting her out of ze kitchen, zen I realized zat she was right."

"How, mm. Did it happen?" Richard asked. He knew he didn't need to explain what he meant by 'it'.

"Ah, you know ze boxes zat armies will mark 'Explosive! Keep from open flame'? Well, zey are explosive, and should be kept from open flame." Etienne explained. "Et, tu?"

"When you're, mm. In a trench, peeking over...the top, and someone. Yells 'Duck'!. You should, mm. Duck."

"I will drink to zat!" Etienne said, raising his glass. Richard did the same, and after drinking the last of the wine, the two men sat back and fell into conversation.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Again THANK YOU for the reviews (not That you, like I just noticed I said in the first chapter.) **

Emma followed Simonne into the kitchen with a handful of dishes. She set them down on the counter, then suddenly embraced Simonne.

"Thank you so much," Emma said. "You've given me my brother back. Not only bringing us both here, but...I don't know what all you said to him, but whatever it was, it's bringing him back. I know that he'll never be the same man he was. And I know that it was wrong of me to act like nothing had changed. But...the doctors said not to treat him any different, that if I acted like nothing had changed, it would be better for him..."

"Pfft," Simonne snorted. "How can acting like nozing has changed be good for a man who just lost half of his face? Is zat not an...insult to his intelligence?"

"I see that, now," Emma admitted. "But when he first came home? I guess it made sense at the time. I didn't want him thinking that when I looked at him, I saw anything less than the brother I had always loved. And that's all he is..my brother, who I have always loved, and always will. No matter what."

"Zat is a good zing," Simonne said, squeezing her arm gently. "And Richard, he knows zis, oui?" Emma nodded. "Well zen, let him find himself, knowing zat you and your love for him will be zere when he is ready."

Simonne smiled, then started washing dishes. Emma studied her for a moment. "What about you?" she asked suddenly.

"What about me?"

"Will you be there for him?"

"If he needs me, or wants me, oui," she said quietly, rinsing a plate in clean water.

"And if he doesn't?"

"Zen zat is how it will be." The words were said nonchalantly enough, but there was something about the way Simonne's eyes lowered that told Emma that Simonne wouldn't exactly be happy with that outcome. She tilted her head and studied the other woman, trying to analyze the strange emotion inside of her. She thought of the little things she had noticed throughout the evening...the small traded smiles, the different ways Simonne would touch Richard as she talked, the way Simonne's lips had seemed to linger on Richard's cheek when she had first greeted him.

"Have you, and Richard...been intimate?" she asked as evenly as she could manage.

Simonne blushed as a dreamy smile spread across her face. "Oui," she admitted, recalling that wonderful night.

"Was it before, or after the war?"

"After," Simonne replied, thinking it an odd question but seeing no reason to not answer.

"How could you?" Emma asked, her voice low and sharp.

"Excuse-moi?" Simonne replied, looking at Emma with raised eyebrows. "How could I what?"

"How could you do that to him?"

"Do what?" Simonne was confused. Where was it coming from, and what did it have to do with anything?

"How could you go and...sleep with him? Make him think he could realistically end up with a woman like you to spend the rest of his life with? Someone like you would never survive on the farm."

"How do you mean, 'make him zink he could realistically end up with a woman like me'? Why could he not?" Simonne asked through a clenched jaw.

"People like Richard and me aren't meant for people like you. We're simple people. You live in this big city and travel around the world going to fancy parties. What could Richard possibly offer you?"

Simonne let the knife she had been holding clatter into the sink and spun towards Emma, her ire raised not only by Emma's words, but her tone of voice as well.

"What could he offer me? Himself! What more would I need? But before you go deciding zat I can not live zis life you seem to have picked for Richard, perhaps you should talk to him, see if he wants it himself."

"Of course he wants to come back to the farm! It's our home! Once he gets himself sorted out, he'll come back..." Emma's voice grew louder as she spoke

"Do you hear yourself?" Simonne shouted back. "I know zis is what you and Richard had planned before he left for ze war, he told me of it ze first day we met. But zat was a long time ago, and zere has been much in between. Remember, he has changed!"

"Not enough to spend the rest of his life with someone like you!"

Simonne blinked, her vision turning red with anger. She was so mad, she could not find the words she wanted. She turned on her foot and stormed out of the kitchen, past Richard and Etienne in the dinning room, through the living room and out the front door.

Richard was on his feet in an instant, chasing after her. He remembered the last time she had walked out on her own. He had almost lost her, in more ways than one, that time. He wouldn't risk anything happening to her again.

He found her just outside the building, arms wrapped around herself, fluffy snowflakes settling on her hair.

"Mm. What happened?" he asked, taking his jacket off and settling it onto her shoulders.

Simonne hesitated a moment, letting her anger cool a bit more, then recounted the conversation. "I do not know where she was getting zese ideas," Simonne said. "You and I have been togezer only ze once, and zis is ze first time we have seen each ozer since, and I have been trying very hard for you and Emma to have time to talk, alzough Etienne seemed to have most of her ear..."

"That doesn't. Mm, sound at all like Emma," Richard said. He wrapped his arm around Simonne and pulled her closer to his body to share his warmth. He could still feel her shivering, and he knew he would be doing the same soon. "We should, mm. Get inside."

Simonne shook her head. "I need a few moments to zink, mon chér." Why had she gotten so angry at Emma's words?

"Let me, mm. Go grab our coats," Richard said. "I'll be. Right back." He dashed back inside and up to Etienne's apartment, his long legs taking the stairs two at a time. He knocked softly on the door, heard Etienne's uneven gait cross the floor, then the door opened.

"Did you find her?" Etienne asked quietly.

Richard nodded. "She's outside. Mm, she needs to. Think. I just...came up to. Mm, grab our coats. How is. Emma?"

Etienne looked over his shoulder, then leaned closer to Richard and said quietly "We are talking. I zink I know what is wrong, but it is one of zose zings zat she must realize on her own, tu sais?" Richard nodded, and Etienne grabbed his and Simonne's coats and handed them through the door. "Emma et moi, we will talk, and if you et Simonne will talk, perhaps we can discover what is going on. You will be at your hotel, oui? I will call you zere, later." Richard nodded and slipped into his coat, then went back downstairs to Simonne, who was standing right where he left her, a look of intense concentration on her face. Richard held her coat out to her, she slipped her arms into it and buttoned it up.

"Merci, mon chér," she said.

"Etienne said he, mm. Would call us at my hotel. Mm, but I don't know. Where it is."

Simonne gave a small shake and brought herself back from her thoughts, which happened to be heading in an unexpected, somewhat scary but not entirely unpleasant, direction. "Ah, oui. It is not zat far, mais...c'est froid...would you prefer to walk, or we could take a taxi."

"I'm, mm, not the one. With the exposed. Ankles," Richard pointed out. "It's up, mm. To you."

Simonne started walking, Richard fell in step beside her, watching her face as they went. The small expressions on her face fascinated him. He wondered what was going on in that quick mind of hers at that moment.

The snow continued to fall, coating the city in a soft, while blanket that, to Richard's eye, made Paris all the more beautiful.

It also made the sidewalks all the more slippery. One minute, Simonne was walking and thinking, quite close to that great epiphany if only she could get her thoughts to tie together. The next minute, her left foot was sliding forward and her right foot was sliding backwards. Richard reacted quickly, getting his arms under hers in an attempt to stop her fall, but his feet his the same slick patch that hers had, and before he knew it, his feet were out from under him.

He landed on the snow covered sidewalk hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He was aware of one of Simonne's feet wedged uncomfortably under his hip. Her elbow was digging into the worst spot possible as she tried to twist herself out of her awkward position.

"Mon chér!" she said as she leaned over him. "Oh, mon chér, are you all right?" Richard looked up at her, and for a moment it was the most surreal vision he had ever seen...the snowflakes coming straight down around her face. Her beautiful face, brows knitted in worry but laughter evident in her eyes. He felt a smile spread across his face. "Mm, yes," he said, leaning up and kissing her.

At the first touch of his lips, Simonne felt every ounce of desire she had been suppressing all evening flare to life. She had kept it in check because this was supposed to be for Emma and Richard, and she didn't want to come between them, this their first night seeing each other. But it had been so hard...sometimes he would look at her a certain way, or their hands would lightly brush, the scent of him, ah...she had to be honest with herself...it was everything about him. She kissed him, not caring at the moment that they were laying on a sidewalk in the snow. Except well, it was rather cold, and the snow was lovely but wet, and _cold..._

She broke the kiss and carefully stood, helping Richard up. They kept walking, but as soon as she spotted one, Simonne hailed a cab, giving the driver the hotel name. She and Richard snuggled together in the back seat, trying to gain some warmth. Luckily it wasn't far to the hotel, and before long they were in Richard's room.

_Meanwhile, back at Etienne's apartment..._

Etienne and Emma sat on his couch, talking things through.

When Richard had rushed after Simonne, Etienne had gone into the kitchen, finding Emma staring out the window, her jaw clenched, her tall, lean body nearly trembling with rage.

"So what stupid zing did Simonne say zat has got you both so angry?" Etienne asked.

"She had sex with Richard!" Emma snapped. "I don't know why she thought that would be a good idea...Richard isn't meant for someone like her."

"Oh? How do you mean?" Etienne asked as he grabbed two clean glasses and Emma's arm, leading her back to the living room and steering her to the couch. He had sat her down, then grabbed a decanter of whiskey and joined her on the couch.

"Richard needs a woman who doesn't mind hard work from sun-up to sun-down, a woman who will get her hands dirty. Someone who understand that sometimes, there isn't enough food, or money...not some flighty little dancer who just waltzes into his life on occasion, dazzles him with quick words and a pretty smile, intent on getting into his pants out of some sense of mis-guided pity." She took the glass Etienne offered her and knocked it back like it was water. "She keeps telling me he's changed, and fine, I'll accept that, but I don't see how her sleeping with him can be good for him! Now he'll think he can get any pretty woman he wants, and that's just...not realistic! He can't take her back to work on the farm! She'd probably freeze to death in the first winter, assuming she didn't get kicked in the head by a cow, first."

Etienne listed to Emma rant, trying very hard not to smile at her misplaced vitriol. A knock came at the door, and Etienne limped over to answer it. He handed Richard the coats, promised to call him later, then went back to Emma.

"So, you do not like zat Richard and Simonne know each ozer intimately?"

"No! Outside of the fact that Richard and I were raised to believe that the only person you have sex with is your spouse...how is he supposed to settle down with a nice, normal woman now?"

"Simonne is not 'normal'?"

"God, no! She's this perky little sprite who thinks she knows how someone is supposed to live their life better than they themselves do!" She didn't realize she was doing it, but she held her glass out for Etienne to refill. He did so and listened to Emma bash his sister. Oh, he knew Emma was jealous, it was obvious, and somewhat understandable. Emma had been the only woman in Richard's life for so long, and they had been very close, and they had held an image for so long of what their adult life would be like.

But then the war came, and Richard, like so many brave, foolish young men, had heard the call to duty and answered it. And the war, like it had done to so many other of those brave, foolish men, re-arranged the future of Richard. Emma couldn't quite accept this, not out of stupidity, not entirely out of stubbornness, but mostly out of the fact that she still saw Richard as the Richard she had known her entire life. Etienne wasn't sure whether to admire her loyalty to her brother, or to pity her for the fact that she couldn't quite see that he wasn't the brother she once knew. This anger at Simonne was ridiculous, as far as he was concerned.

"Let me show you somezing," Etienne said, standing and walking to a desk in the corner. He lowered himself to the floor, not an easy task since his prosthetic leg did not bend, and dug through the lowest drawer. He pulled out a manila envelope and leveraged himself back up, coming back to the sofa and sitting down beside Emma.

"Simonne wrote to me often while I was deployed," Etienne said as he opened the envelope. "Never anyzing important, just little zings about what she was doing or interesting zings zat happened." He rifled through a stack of letters until he found the one he was looking for. "I keep all zese because zey are fun to read, see how much she changed since I first left," he told Emma with a smile, partially proud, partially reminiscent. "One day, I get zis one," He read Emma a letter dated July 18th, 1918, when Simonne described meeting Richard.

"When I first read zis, my first zought was" Etienne said, " 'who is zis man who zinks to make such an impression on my little sister? ' And for a while, I toyed with ze idea of punching every 'cute, noble, dashing' American soldier I crossed paths with, just in case one of zem happened to be zis Richard Harrow zat Simonne spoke so highly of. But," he admitted with a shrug, "after I punched one...he probably wasn't zat cute, but I do not know how women judge zese zings,...and had to dig a new latrine trench, I realized zat, my sister, she was growing up, and zere were some zings zat I, her brother, could not do for her, even zough I am a very wonderful brother to have." He looked at Emma, pleased to see she was deep in thought. He felt he had said enough. It was up to her to figure the rest out.

"Whenever she would write to me," Emma finally said, "she would inevitably end up asking if I had heard anything from Richard. I thought she was just curious...if I had known that they'd _kissed_!"

"But she was curious," Etienne pointed out. "Also, very concerned."

"But she only knew him for a few hours! Why would she care what happened to him?"

Etienne raised an eyebrow to her, telling her without words that she should be able to figure this out on her own.

Emma looked at him for a moment, then looked away. Her mom used to give her that look, back when she was young and not putting enough thought into the lesson she was supposed to be learning.

"Are you saying Simonne fell in love with Richard that day? In those few hours?"

"In love? Je ne sais pas. But she obviously felt somezing, if she kissed him. Simonne did not lack for suitors, but she never let zem get any closer zan kissing her hand. And for her to chose to spend ze day with him, completely ignoring her ballet rehearsal? You would have to understand how fiercely ma soeur wanted to become a prima ballerina. It has been somezing she has dreamed of since she could walk. Zere must be somezing quite remarkable about Richard."

"See! If all she wants from life is to be a ballerina, she needs to leave Richard alone."

"So you can have him to yourself?"

"Yes!"

"And, have you talked to Richard about zis?"

That made Emma pause. "No," she finally admitted, looking down at the empty glass in her hands.

"Do you zink you should?"

"Probably."

"Will you?"

"Eventually," she said softly.

"And what if he said zat he wanted Simonne in his life?"

"But she's not..."

"Tsk, zis is not about what you zink of her. Zis is, what if he wants her in his life? What will you do?"

"I...I don't know," she admitted. "Probably tell him why it's a mistake."

"And it is a mistake because you do not zink Simonne can handle hard work, or life on your farm."

"Yes."

"And if Richard does not want to return to ze farm?"

"But he..." That look from Etienne cut her short. "I guess, if he doesn't want to, then...well...I guess he won't." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"So, it seems you will need to talk to him about zis, oui?" Emma nodded. "Beside, for all we know, zey do not feel anyzing more for each ozer zan friendship, and perhaps you are jealous for nozing."

Emma opened her mouth, prepared to say she was not jealous at all.

But then she closed her mouth, because, well, she _was _jealous. Etienne was right.

"It does not seem fair, does it, zat even zough you had nozing to do with ze war, it has still turned your life upside down?" He said gently, putting his arm around her shoulders in what he meant to be a brotherly embrace. "Zose of us who fought in it, we do not sometimes see how it affected ze people we care for. It is a bit of selfishness on our part, to not understand zat."

Emma looked at him for a long moment, and what she did next took Etienne completely by surprise.


	4. Chapter 4

Etienne's eyes flew open and Emma pounced on him and pressed her lips to his. A squeal of surprise popped out when her hand went to his crotch.

_Oh, hell! I've got a drunk, irrational woman..._

"No squeezing!" he gasped as his family jewels tried to drawl up inside of him for protection. Sadly, Emma's death grip on them kept them painfully in place. He had to grip her wrist with one hand and place the other on her forehead and push her away. For such a slight woman, she was pretty strong, and it took a good shove on his part to get her off of him. She sat back, looking confused, hurt, angry, drunk, and possibly honestly aroused but he wasn't sure if she was truly wanting him, or if she was just drunk, or possibly trying to get back at Emma.

What ever it was, he could not have sex with her.

"You don't find me attractive?" she pouted.

"You are très jolie," he assured her, holding her hands, mostly to keep them from doing more damage to his now rather sore testicles. "But I do not zink you are really wanting to have sex with me."

"But I do..."

"Did you want to do so earlier? Say, before dinner? Or even just after, as we were all talking?"

"Well, I don't think so, but..."

"And did you not tell me zat you would only have sex with ze person you married?"

"If Richard can break the rules, why can't I?" she asked. Her head came up proudly, stubbornly, defiantly.

_Oh, bon. It is about Richard as well! It just keeps getting better!_

"It is not a rule, belle Emma. Not really. But, it is somezing zat should not be done on a whim, not ze first time. And, it should be with someone you truly care about."

"But Simonne..." Etienne put his finger over her lips.

"Zis is not about Simonne, or Richard. Zis is about you, et peut-être moi. You are a beautiful woman, Emma. If circumstances were differtent, I would probably take you up on your offer. But tonight, it is not ze night for us, belle Emma. It has been an exciting evening for you, many...ah, unexpected zings occurred. Et, you are drunk..."

"No. I'm not...well, a little."

"More zan a little. And you would regret it in ze morning."

"I won't. And even if I did, I would live with it. It wouldn't be the first time."

"Oh, and what could a woman as beautiful as you possibly regret from life?" Etienne asked, trying to distract her.

"It's this really stupid..." Emma trailed off. "Oh no! You're not changing the subject on me like that!" She lunged at him again, once more pressing her lips to his. Etienne gently but firmly pushed her away once more.

"Alright," he said. "I have warned you, mais, you seem intent on doing zis, so let's go." He stood and held his hand out to Emma. She took it, Etienne was disturbed that there was no hesitation in her at all. He led her to his bedroom.

_While back in Richard's hotel room..._

Simonne sat on the bed, clad only in that pair of stocking Richard had loved so.

Sadly, he didn't know she was wearing them.

When they had gotten into the room, the sudden warmth made Richard realize he was drunker than he thought he was. And a wine drunk was a completely different creature than a liquor drunk, he now knew. He stumbled slightly as his sense of balance caught wind of the alcohol in his system, and Simonne had to help him to the bed.

"Are you alright, mon chér?" Simonne asked as he sat/collapsed onto the mattress.

"Drunker, mm. Than I thought. Give me a. Few minutes. And, mm. I'll be...um, fine." He looked up at Simonne with a goofy grin on his face. "You're so. Pretty, mm." He loved the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed.

"And you, mon chér, are so cute. I must use ze salle de bain. Will you be naked when I come out?" she asked over her shoulder as she went into the bathroom.

Richard nodded and started unbuttoning his shirt eagerly, which wasn't all that easy with fingers numbed by both cold and drink, but since Simonne was a girl, and girls always took forever to do whatever it was they did in the bathroom, he figured he had plenty of time to get them undone. He did finally manage it, pulled his shirt tails out from his waist, worked on unfastening his pants, realized standing to removed them wasn't going to work, so he laid back, lifted his hips and slid them down to mid-thigh. He laid there, his head spinning and his body feeling slightly numb and thought 'I'll finish getting undressed in a minute. I'm just going to lay here, close my eye, let the world stop spinning...just a minute.'

Simonne found him with his shirt unbuttoned, his pants partway down, feet on the floor, not quite snoring.

"Mon chér?" she said softly, leaning over him. "Oh _Ree-shard..." _she sang, running her hand along his body. He murmured, shifted slightly, but other than that, nothing. Simonne gave a rueful smile and shook her head before she went about getting Richard undressed and arranged more comfortably on the bed. It wasn't easy...he was heavier than he looked, and although he roused somewhat when Simonne was trying to tug his shirt off, it wasn't enough to be truly helpful to her. But she finally managed. She carefully removed his mask, taking great care with the delicate tin. She held it in her hand and regarded it for a long while. It was an amazing bit of work, she thought, almost a piece of art. But she couldn't help but hate that Richard, and so many others like him, found need for such a thing. Like Etienne's false leg, it made it easier for Richard to move around in the world. But while Etienne's leg literally made it easier for him to move, Richard's mask was really more necessary because humans were very vain creatures deep down, with silly ideas of how one should appear. It was ingrained in everyone what was 'normal' and there were very few who could break from that norm without feeling alienated from society. Simonne knew Richard wasn't one of those people. She would always hope that someday he might be, but she doubted it would ever happen. He saw his injury as too horrific.

She carefully set his mask on the nightstand, then pulled the blankets up to cover him. She planned to curl up beside him eventually, but it seemed like a good time to finish her thinking, so she sat beside him on the bed, gazed at him fondly, and went over what she had already worked out.

She had always been attracted to him, that much she had known for a good long time. But it wasn't just a physical attraction, she now understood. It was also an emotional, spiritual attraction. When she was with him, something inside of her heart and her mind seemed to awaken. It was like standing in a warm patch of sunshine, or that first oh-so-satisfy stretch in the morning after a good night's sleep. It was like a small piece of heaven had nestled inside of her. She was fairly certain it was love. She had told him, as they made love that night in Atlantic City, that she could see herself falling in love with him. True, she had told him this in French, because she knew he couldn't understand her, and while she wanted him to know how she felt, she wasn't sure if he felt the same about her. Whatever was or would be between them, Simonne would be there for Richard in whatever way he needed or wanted her. And if it turned out that Richard did not need or want her, then she would content herself with the memory of the time they had together. It would be hard, she knew, but she wanted him to be happy above anything.

She wondered if he would return the farm with his sister. Which made her try to picture herself on the farm with them. It didn't take her long to realize Emma was most likely right in that Simonne would never survive on the farm. She'd only recently just seen a real live cow, but it was at a distance, as the train had gone by. She had seen chickens, but had no real clear idea how they went from the smelly squawking feather covered messes to dinner. She really could not cook, and firmly agreed with her brother that she should not be allowed near a stove. She couldn't keep a plant alive to save her soul, so she'd be useless in a garden. She could do laundry, and basic sewing. She was also good at cleaning. But that meant she'd make a decent maid, not a farm wife. Would she be happy? That she didn't know. She thought she might be, if Richard was there. It would be peaceful, she might find that solitude she occasionally craved but could rarely find.

But, what if she wasn't happy? She would likely make everyone else around her miserable, as well. And she didn't want to do that.

But she realized that all of this was pointless thinking until she knew what Richard had planned. She could worry about potentially being miserable on a farm once she knew if he wanted her in his life.

She shifted her position, laying down on her stomach, her chin resting in her hand, and studied his face. On one side he looked so peaceful in slumber, young and innocent, with a life of honest, simple happiness before him. But the other,...Simonne could not imagine a more fitting image for a soldier. His ruined face seemed to capture the horrors seen so perfectly. The wide eye, shocked and blank. The mouth open in an eternal scream. The scars, always a reminder of injury and pain, both suffered and delivered. It made her sad to think that so many young men went through what they did. Especially young men that she cared so much for. She closed her eyes in a moment of silent reflection. When she opened them, she looked at Richard a moment more, then planted a gentle kiss on his lips before she crawled under the covers and snuggled up beside him. He shifted in his sleep, wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him, his breathing, his heartbeat, and a small contented 'mm' from his throat all the lullaby Simonne needed to drift to sleep.

Richard awoke some hours later in desperate need of the bathroom. At some point, Simonne had rolled over and thrown an arm and a leg over him, so he tried to slide out from under her gently but quickly.

He relieved himself, washed his hand, and took a few moments to brush his teeth to remove the sticky, sour taste the wine had left in his mouth. While he did so, he mulled over the odd dream he had had while he slept:

He was back on the farm, living with Emma. She asked if he would kill a cow and a couple of chickens. He said he would, and he went to his room, only it wasn't his room at the farmhouse, it was his room in Atlantic City. He strapped on his knife, wrapped an apple and some cheese in a handkerchief, put his dog tags on and tucked them into his shirt, grabbed his rifle and headed out. He walked to the pasture and created a blind, where he settled himself in to wait for the cow to make one small mistake so he could get the perfect shot. While he was waiting, Simonne came in. He watched her with one eye while the other eye continued to look down his sight. Simonne took off her clothes, then undressed Richard while he continued to patiently watch the cow. Simonne was suddenly under him, and he was making love to her, but he was still watching the cow. But now the cow had the face of Manny Horowitz, and Richard itched to pull the trigger, but not yet, it wasn't the perfect shot. "Shoot him, mon cher!" Simonne urged, her hips thrusting against his frantically as she begged him to pull the trigger. "She's not right for your world!" Emma screamed from behind them. And Jimmy and Angela were there, arm in arm. Angela looking sad yet serene, Jimmy looking conflicted yet somehow finally at peace with himself. "Have you ever loved anyone?" Angela whispered. "Don't let it slip away Richard," Jimmy said fiercely. "I had everything, but I didn't hold on to it. Don't make the same mistakes I made." Richard exploded inside of Simonne, pulling the trigger as he did so. As the gunshot echoed through the pasture, everything faded except for Simonne. He lifted himself off of her, saw that one of the tags had come off the ribbon and was resting between Simonne's breasts. He reached for it, but it sank into her skin as soon as he touched it. He stared at the spot where it had rested, and as he did a warm, silver glow began to emanate from her skin. He felt himself surrounded by and drawn into that light, it was like being embraced by everything that Simonne was.

That was when he woke up. And as he stood in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror, he was no closer to knowing what any of it meant. He only knew that his life was suddenly much more complicated than he would have thought possible six months ago.

_Back at Etienne's apartment..._

"Go ahead and get undressed," Etienne told Emma, moving to one side of his bed. He began taking off his clothes. Emma watched him as she began unbuttoning her dress. His back was to her, so she was able to see the gruesome scarring he had incurred. She could not imagine how painful it must have been for him. The scarring started just below his shoulders, covering most of his back in what would have been a beautiful swirl of angry red ridges and smooth pale swirls if it had been anything other than the result of a horrific injury. There were some small scars on the backs of his arms as well, and when he dropped his pants, she realized the scars went down to the middle of his thighs. Well, thigh. His right leg had been amputated about six inches below the hip, leaving him with enough stump to wear a prosthetic leg. He sat down on the bed to remove his leg, leaning it against the wall before inspecting his stump for chafe marks or sores. When he was satisfied there were none, he looked over to Emma, who was standing at the foot of the bed in only a shift.

"Come," he said softly, patting the bed beside him. Emma walked over and sat down next to him.

"You are still wanting to do this?" he asked softly. Emma nodded but said nothing. "I will stop ze moment you tell me to."

"I won't," Emma replied. Etienne had to suppress a sigh at her stubborn pride. He told her to lay down, and when she had done so, he moved his body to lay along side of her. He gently turned her face to his and kissed her softly. It was a proper kiss, not her version of just pressing her lips to his, and it took her a moment to catch on.. But he felt her relax into it, eventually. He ran one hand up her side, bringing it up to tenderly cup her breast. Her back arched as he gave a gentle squeeze.

"Close your eyes, belle Emma," he whispered in her ear. She did, and he began nuzzling her neck, flicking his thumb over her nipple, teasing her through the soft cotton of her shift. He heard her take a deep breath, moved his mouth a little further down her neck. He kept his touches very light, barely there...

It wasn't long before Emma's breathing was the deep, even breath of slumber.

"Dieu merci!," Etienne said quietly. He tucked the blankets around her, put on a pair of pajamas, grabbed his crutch, and went out to the living room to spend the night on the couch.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry it had taken me so long to get this chapter up. Crazy holiday time. Thanks to those who have replied. Hope everyone who had read has enjoyed. **

When Richard next woke, sometime before dawn, it took him a moment to realize the soft sounds of amusement he was hearing and the light, gently arousing touches he was feeling on his manhood were related. He kept his eye closed for a moment, not only enjoying the feather light touches but trying to figure out what Simonne was doing down there. Her head was resting on his stomach, and she would trail a finger up and down his length, or delicately circle his head with her finger. Whenever she hit a spot that caused a bob or twitch, she would make a not-quite-giggle sound. Richard lifted the blankets and peeked down at her.

"Are you, mm. Having fun?" he asked. She turned her head to look at him, and said "Oui. I did not realize how fascinating zis is," she said with a happy note in her voice as she continued to stroke him. He raised his eyebrow, wanting her to explain that. "Well, when I first started, it was a little, cute...hmm...is 'squishy' an appropriate word?"

"Well, um... yes,...Mm, but not one. Any man really. Mm, likes to hear used," he said, unable to keep a smile from forming. "Neither are. Little, and mm. Cute."

"Ah, but zat is why it is so fascinating! All it takes is a touch, or a small kiss, and it goes from a cute little squishy zing to somezing zat is most certainly not little or squishy," and here she gave a squeeze to prove that it was the furthest thing from squishy. "Alzough, it is still somewhat cute."

"Are we, mm. Really having. This conversation?" Richard asked, laughing. "It's not, mm. That fascinating..."

"It is!" she insisted, then added "You get to play with it every day, so you are used to it."

"I do not, mm. 'Play with. It'." She moved her body up so she could looking down at him, although she continued to stroke him. She had that delightful, wicked grin on her face that always set Richard's pulse racing.

"Not even when you zink of me?" she asked playfully. Richard felt the color creep into his cheeks. How did he answer this? Truthfully? _Well, yes...nearly every night, actually. And occasionally two or three times, if you keep popping into my dreams you mischievous little imp... _Or did he attempt to display some of the manners his mother had instilled in him and try to veer the conversation to a more suitable topic?

But, what exactly qualified as a 'more suitable topic' when a lovely lady was leaning above you stroking you off?

Richard couldn't help but laugh, something that Simonne seemed good at making him do. And that was one of the reasons he thought he might be in love with her. He wasn't entirely sure if that's what it was, it was something he had never felt before. The tiniest thought about her made his heart skip a beat, imagining her smile made him feel like nothing in the world could ever go wrong. The way she could make him laugh at everything, including... perhaps especially, himself.

"I love. Your laughter," he said, quite randomly, but feeling the need to tell her. "Mm, it's spectacular. When...you laugh, I can. Mm, almost think nothing. Bad...can happen" He caressed her cheek with his hand. "I love. Mm, that you make. Me laugh, about. The most. Mm ridiculous things...Hey! That, mm...was not...an...invitation...mm...to tickle...not the...mm... belly button!" He could barely get the words out past the laughter, and he could not evade her fingers. They were in his ribs, his belly button, up under his arms. Instinctively he wanted to stop her, she was _tickling _him for heaven's sake, but he was enjoying laughing too much to make her stop just yet.

Simonne loved seeing Richard look so carefree. His laughter, rough and broken though it was, was a sound she could listen to for hours. And when he laughed, it was as if the weight of all he had seen and done and become just melted away. She could see a tension leaving his body, faint stress lines ease from his face.

"You do not laugh enough, mon chér!" she playfully scolded him. "You should find a friend to tickle you occasionally."

_Excuse me, Al? I really need a laugh. Be a pal and tickle me? No? How 'bout you, Charlie? Tickle-fight?_

That image made Richard laugh harder. Simonne smiled and relented her tickling. Richard wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down on top of him. He took a moment to catch his breath, gazing at her happily. His eye was bright with laughter, the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile, and a wonderful peaceful bliss settled inside of him. He had long pictured himself as a shattered vessel, and the healing process was him carefully gluing the pieces of him back into place. He would never be perfectly whole ever again, there would always be cracks and small missing pieces. But looking up at Simonne, falling into her eyes, or being dazzled by her smile, he saw some of those cracks fade to nothing, and some of the missing chinks were filled in by a warm silver glow, similar to what he had seen in his dream the night before.

"I, mm. Have something...for you," he said abruptly. Simonne shifted so he could rise from the bed, her eyes following him curiously as he walked to the closet and pulled out his suitcase. She watched his back as he rummaged, the play of muscles under his skin, the lovely sight of his back tapering into his waist and hips, the subtle strength of his shoulders.

"J'aime ton derrière," she said. Richard looked at her over his shoulder, blushing. _That _he understood.

"Um. Thank you," he said, strangely flattered. He went back to rummaging through his suitcase...he was going to be very upset if he didn't find...

"Here, mm. It is." Richard came back to the bed and knelt beside it, looking at Simonne. "I don't, mm. Know why, but I. Have this...feeling that I...mm, need to give this too. You." He held out one of his dog tags to her. "It's silly..."

She held the small circle in her hand and studied it carefully. "It is not silly, mon chér," she said softly, bringing her face close to his and lightly kissing him. "It is somezing I will cherish greatly. Always, I will be reminded of you." They shared a look that spoke volumes, although neither said a word. They drifted together into a kiss, which became a caress, which led to completely entwinement of their bodies, and although neither could yet admit it, their souls as well. Words unspoken are still truths, and each knew the truth of their feelings in their hearts, and tried, wordlessly, to tell the other. They did not realize that their reasons for staying silent on the true depths of their feelings were nearly the same...all a matter of timing and other conversations that needed to be held. But for all that was left unsaid, somewhere deep down inside them both, they each knew the truth. Each touch, each kiss, every whispered endearment...they called to the love each felt for the other, pulled their souls towards a spiritual embrace.

The only time either of them spoke was when Richard felt Simonne nuzzling around his neck like she was prone to do right before she would latch on and end up leaving him with sucker bites.

"No marks, mm. On my neck," he said, "Or so help me, I will. Mm, ma'am you. From now, until, mm. The end of...time." He felt her lips still where they were, and he knew she was seriously weighing his words, trying to decide if he was serious. Just to prove he was, he whispered 'ma'am' in her ear. She grumbled something in French, continued to nuzzle, but she did not leave him with any marks on his neck.

Their lovemaking was leisurely and gentle, and when it was over they lay in a contented snuggle, somewhat drowsy but not really tired. Peace suffused them both. Simonne lay with her head on Richard's shoulder, his arm wrapped around her, holding her close to him. They could see snow still falling outside of the window, imagined that it was probably quite cold outside, but it didn't matter, not while they held one another.

The bliss was shattered by the ringing of the phone. Richard answered it, looked confused, and handed the phone to Simonne with a shrug. "I think, mm. It's Etienne," he told her as she took the phone. She spoke, her eyes flew open and she said 'Etienne, non!' followed by something else in French. Richard watched her face, trying to figure out what the conversation was based on her expressions. He could only figure she was upset at Etienne, and worried about...Emma? She hung the phone up and looked at Richard.

"We must go to Etienne's," she said. "Emma is...upset at somezing, but Etienne would not tell me what."

_Dawn at Etienne's apartment..._

Emma slowly drifted awake, aware before her eyes were even open that she had the worst headache of her life. Throbbing didn't begin to cover the sensation in her head. She wasn't entirely sure if her head felt more like it wanted to explode, or collapse in on itself. She cracked on eye open and regretted it as the faint morning light stabbed into her brain. She rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head. That was when she realized this wasn't her bed at home, or even the bed at the hotel.

Which brought a great deal of the previous night back to her mind. Yelling at Simonne, throwing herself on Etienne...

"Hell's bells," Emma groaned, pulling the pillow tighter over her head, hoping that would block the memories. But it didn't. Not all of it, at any rate...she remembered up to the point where Etienne was kissing her, skimming his hand across her chest. After that there was nothing, which made the situation all the worse. She had given her virginity to a stranger, and she couldn't even remember it. So in the course of a few short hours, she had managed to act completely ungrateful to the woman who had tried to reunite Emma with her brother, probably ruined any chance of reconciling with her brother, acted like a wanton fool and totally cheapened what should have been one of the most precious moments of her life.

_I am never leaving the farm again, not for anything, _she vowed as hot tears started seeping from her eyes. She started thinking about everything, starting with her jealousy at Simonne. Was it because Emma felt threatened that there might be someone else important in Richard's life? Yes. Was it because Emma felt like a failure because Simonne managed to start Richard's long road to healing where Emma herself could not? Yes. Was it fear that Richard might choose Simonne over his own sister? Yes.

The first sob broke from Emma. She felt a great deal of self-hatred. How could she have been so unfair to Simonne? They had formed somewhat of a bond through their letters over the years, and when they had finally met in Chicago, Emma couldn't help but like the little French woman. Simonne was quick-witted, humorous, a good judge of character, and was overall a fun person to be around. Emma had meant it when she called Simonne delightful, because she was. She listened to even the most mundane of Emma's stories as if they were epic adventures. And her interest in how Emma was handling everything, from daily life on the farm to worry for her (at this point in time) missing brother, was genuine. And yet Emma had been petty enough to be jealous of the bond between Richard and Simonne, even after Simonne had brought her and her brother back together. She could see now that the bond between Simonne and Richard was completely different from the bond between Richard and herself, but to realize it now was realizing it too late. Would Richard get jealous if the situation were reversed? She doubted it. He had always been the more easy-going of the two, calm, not prone to emotional outbursts, even before he had changed so much. Of course, now she wasn't sure what if anything he felt for her, so she didn't see him irrationally blowing up at Etienne. Which brought her to another stupid move on her part last night... Sex with Etienne. She had assumed she would feel different...more alive, more womanly, something. But she didn't. She only felt more foolish for it. 'You will regret it,' Etienne had warned her. 'I'll live with it,' she had told him and it seemed that she would have to, now. Especially since she couldn't remember it. Her sobs grew more intense, and she was vaguely aware of Etienne coming into the room and trying to comfort her. But his kindness only made things worse because Emma couldn't see what she had done to deserve it. He should hate her for what she made him do last night. Although right now, she hated herself enough for the both of them, so maybe he could afford to be nice. It still didn't make her feel any better. She could only sobs and rehash the litany of mistakes she had made the night before, wrapping herself in her misery and taking some small penance from the pain she was causing herself.

Etienne tried to soothe Emma but he soon realized this was beyond him. Admittedly, part of it was his fault, she was under the impression that they'd slept together, and even though he tried to tell her that NOTHING had happened she either couldn't hear him over her sobbing or she didn't believe him. He tried for fifteen minutes to calm Emma down, but he only succeeded in making her cry harder. Finally he left the room, called Richard's hotel, and when he got Simonne on the phone said "You need to come over now! My attempt at fixing things with Emma has resulted in her laying on my bed in a sobbing heap. " when Simonne asked what he had done he refused to say, he only told her to hurry up and get there quickly before he hung up. He spent the next thirty minutes pacing around his apartment as best he could on one leg and a crutch, listening to Emma's heart-wrenching sobs and wondering what was taking his sister so long to get here.

When Simonne and Richard finally came into his apartment, he was relieved he started nattering at Simonne in French. Simonne listened carefully, Richard watched her face as it processed what Etienne told her. When he was done, Simonne turned to Richard and said "I zink you are ze best one to get Emma to calm down. Etienne says she feels bad for ze sings she said last night, among ozer zings." This was said with a very disapproving glance at Etienne, who looked ashamed under her stare. "Please, Richard, see if you can make her feel better."Richard nodded and went down the hall to Etienne's bedroom. He gently pushed open the door and peeked in, seeing his sister lying on the bed. Her body still shook with sobs, her face was red and puffy. Slowly, somewhat awkwardly, he went into the room and sat down beside her on the bed. He hesitantly reach one hand out and placed it on her shoulder, letting her know he was here, letting her know he was concerned.

"Please, tell me. Mm, what...happened."

"I'm so sorry Richard," Emma whispered, her voice thick with tears and hoarse from her crying. "I'm a horrible sister. I couldn't...I just...I wanted..." She took a deep breath and tried to organize her racing thoughts. "I know you've changed, Richard. And I guess that scares me, because I haven't. You've seen things...not just the war stuff, but...do you remember that letter you wrote me about the first time you came to Paris? I remember reading it and being so...jealous," she admitted with a sigh. "Because you were seeing these wonderful things. And, meeting all these fascinating people. And here I was, on the farm, doing the same things we'd always done, with the same people we'd always done it with. The only thing that had changed was that you weren't there doing them too. I used to get through each day by thinking that you'd be back eventually and life would go on as planned. But when you did come home...it didn't take long for me to realize things wouldn't go on as we had always figured they would. The doctors, they told me I should treat you like nothing had happened, that it would do you good if you thought I still saw you the same way I did before you were injured. I..." how could she explain this? "Richard, it doesn't matter to me what you look like, what you've done or seen, or if you've trapped behind some emotional wall that keeps you from feeling anything for anyone. You're still my brother, and I will always love you. But," she paused and took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was calm, but still soft. "I guess because of that, I've never been able to understand that maybe you're no longer...able to stay on the farm, or that maybe you don't even want to. I guess milking cows and plowing fields seems pretty boring after everything you've done recently."

"Mm, not boring," Richard said, looking at the wall but actually seeing an entirely differently life than the one he now led. "Idealistically, mm. Simple. I miss...waking up in the morning. Knowing exactly...mm, what the day. Had in store. Milk, mm, the cows, gather eggs,...breakfast...well, mm. You know." Emma nodded. Her day to day routine hadn't changed one bit since Richard left. "Even the army, mm. Was about routine. But now?" He turned at looked at his sister, studying her carefully. She was a strong woman, his twin. But truth be told, she was sheltered. Richard had been the same way before the army. He felt that telling her about his life now would appall her, but she needed to know, perhaps she could understand him better for knowing. "Mm, I met. Jimmy Darmody in Chicago, at a hospital..." he began, telling her everything, sparing only the grizzliest of details, but not hiding the fact that he was a murderer and rum-runner. He remembered Angela Darmody with fondness and sadness. When he spoke of Jimmy's death, his voice cracked around the grief. "I know, mm. I made it sound. Like I still. Mm, work for him. In a way, I do. I, mm, take only enough. Of what I make from the liquor... to meet my needs. Everything else. I set aside for his son, Tommy. Jimmy's mother, mm. Takes care of him, but I...don't trust her."

"Why not?" Emma asked

"She's...part of the reason, mm. Jimmy got in over his head. She... Schemes." He shrugged, unable to explain it further.

Emma nodded somewhat absently and processed everything else Richard had told her. At first she didn't want to believe him, it sounded like too much of an adventure to be real. But she knew her brother well enough still to know he wasn't lying. She felt a pang of jealousy, again because there he was having the adventure while she was stuck in the same old same old. But that was silly because what he was talking about wasn't an adventure, it was dangerous and wrong. So, so wrong.

"This is. What I've become," he said, looking her square in the eye. "At first, I, mm. Was in it only. Because Jimmy was...the first real friend. I, mm. Ever had. He swore, mm. He would fight for me. To the last bullet. I can only, mm. Do the same. For his son."

"What do you think would have happened if you hadn't met this Jimmy?"

"I would, mm. Probably have killed myself somewhere... In Chicago."

"Oh. Um..."

"Like I said, mm. I wasn't. In a good place. I didn't know. What I was. I couldn't, mm. Be a farmer anymore. And I, mm. Couldn't be a soldier. Mm, Jimmy gave me purpose. It was the first time, mm, since my accident. That I felt useful. That I, mm, felt like I still. Belonged on the planet. Jimmy...understood. Yes, he used me, but, mm. That's the world we walked in. He still treated me like, mm. A friend. I wanted, to go with him, mm. The night he died. We were drunk, mm, I think we...were reminiscing. When the call came, mm, he clapped me on, the shoulder, mm, told me there are. Some things that had to, mm, be handled personally." Richard still felt the stab of grief when he remembered that night. Why hadn't he insisted on going? He should have been there. He could have kept Jimmy alive...

Emma could see the emotions tearing through Richard, grief, guilt, anger, confusion. She sat up and leaned against him, offering him comfort and as much understanding as she could manage. Richard told his sister about Jimmy and Angela, painting for her the picture of the Darmodys as he had first seen them, a young happy in love couple where each partner was secure and comfortable, taking care of the other. He didn't tell her about the infidelities on both their parts, or the frequent tension. He knew now that their relationship was really just one bad decision on top of the next...but he was enough of a romantic to think that somewhere deep down, Jimmy and Angela had really loved each other, that they were holding hands together in the afterlife, smiling down upon the ugly world they were both lucky enough to be beyond.

"Mm, I think...Jimmy knew he, mm. Was going to die," Richard concluded. "He had. Burnt too many, bridges and mm, alienated too many. Friends. I think he knew he. Was too far in to come back. And I don't think he cared anymore, mm. I wish..."

"If wishes were fishes, then no man would starve," Emma said when Richard trailed off. He nodded, and looked at his sister. She had her shoulder pressed against his, her weight more comforting to him than he would have thought possible. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and the faintest of smiles appeared on her lips.

"I can see how the farm would seem very simple, now," she said. Richard gave a small chuckle. "I can also see," Emma continued, "how right now isn't the best time for you to come to Wisconsin." She thought that sounded diplomatic enough. Her brother had just given her a lot to think over, a true test of her earlier words about it not mattering what Richard had done, he was still her brother and she would always love him regardless.

"That, mm, isn't. The only thing...bothering you," Richard said. Most people might've phrased it as a question. But this was his sister, and sometimes you don't question what you just know.

"I need to apologize to Simonne," Emma said. "I said some horrible things to her, and about her. I should stand and let the three of you slap me repeatedly for the things I said about her." Emma shook her head. "And most of them, I don't even have the excuse of being drunk. Oh, hell...Etienne..." She had forgotten, for a few moments, about her stupidity regarding Etienne.

"Mm, what about. Etienne?" Richard asked, concerned. He felt something inside of him coil, ready itself for action.

Emma felt the tears welling again. "Oh Richard, stupidity on my part. We got drunk. At least, I got drunk, and we ended up here in bed, having sex..."

That thing inside of Richard that had been coiling suddenly snapped. This was his sister, and that suave French bastard had gotten her drunk and forced himself on her?

Richard stood and strode down the hall toward the kitchen, one thought on his mind.

Etienne Fucking Delacroix was going to pay...


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Happy 2012! I hope there year ahead has nothing but happiness in store for you!**

**This is kind of a filler fluff chapter. Next chapter, things start to get interesting. Thank you for reading and commenting.**

"_How could you even think about doing something like that?" _Simonne asked Etienne as they sat in his kitchen drinking coffee. _"You realize that getting a woman who was upset as it was drunk was really stupid, right?"_

"_I know!"_Etienne admitted, staring into his mug. _"I was just hoping to make her see that she was jealous for no reason and it was rather ridiculous. I didn't think she'd decide to 'break the rules' as she put it. I think she was trying to get back at you and Richard."_

"_By having sex with you? That makes no sense!" _Etienne just shrugged. _"Well, she knows nothing happened, right?" _Simonne asked.

"_I tried to tell her, before I called you and Richard, but I don't know if she heard me, or believed me. We'll get it straightened out, I'm sure."_

It was then that Simonne heard Richard coming down the hallway. Somehow, she knew this was not going to bode well for Etienne.

Richard stepped to the kitchen door, every nerve in his body thrumming with rage. The only thought he had at that moment was killing Etienne. He reached into his coat, planning on pulling his gun. But he realized he had left it at the hotel. They'd been in such a hurry to get here that he hadn't grabbed it. But that was okay...beating Etienne to a bloody pulp would work just as well, and in the mood he was in, that would probably be the more satisfying choice anyway.

Etienne was on the far side on the table, looking at Richard with a startled expression. Simonne stood in the doorway, doing her best to block access to the room, her hands on her hips, a stubborn glare on her face.

"Move, Simonne," Richard growled.

"I will not," she said emphatically. "You are not getting into ze kitchen just so you can hurt Etienne."

Richard blinked at her. Somewhere deep in his mind he realized that he would normally just kill Simonne. Death was death, and when someone stood in the way, they had to go, too. But he didn't want to kill Simonne. She had done nothing wrong in this situation. It was all her brother's fault, not hers.

"Simonne," Richard said, "you need, mm. To move before you. Get hurt. Your brother, mm. Got my sister drunk. And had his. Mm, way with her. And he is. Going to, mm. Pay."

"No, he is not. Zey did not have sex."

"Emma, mm. Says they did."

"Etienne says zey did not. He also says zat Emma zrew herself at him..." 

"I doubt. That," Richard said.

"No, that's true," Emma said somewhat sheepishly from behind Richard. She had thrown her dress back on. It was rumpled, her face was still puffy from crying, and she looked like something the cat had dragged in, but there was a look in her eye that said she was ready to live with what she had done. "I did throw myself at him. I...I wanted..." she shook her head as she trailed into silence. What she wanted last night seemed so stupid in the light of day. "Richard, leave Etienne be. What happened last night was my fault, and I'll deal with it. You killing Etienne won't make anything better."

"It'll, mm. Keep him from. Doing the same. To, mm, someone else's sister."

"He did nozing to anyone's sister!" Simonne cried. "He does not even like women in zat way!"

That certainly made everyone pause.

Both Richard and Emma looked at Etienne like he was an exotic animal in a zoo that they had heard of but never seen. Etienne looked back at them both, not ashamed of what he was, even if society said he should be. After a moment, he said to Emma, "I told you, ma chérie, if circumstances had been different, I would probably take you up on your offer, mais, I did not say which circumstances..."

"Oh my God," Emma said, her hand covering her mouth. "But...you said I was pretty...and..."

"Oui, you are très jolie. Just because I would not be able to...ah..." he was cautious about finishing that thought because Richard still looked murderous. "Well...just because I can not do zat zing does not mean I do not know beauty. I can not paint, but I appreciate art. I am sorry if I misled you, or if I caused you pain. I should have told you last night, but I did not know how you would react."

"But, didn't we..." Emma was so confused. She could have sworn he'd been in bed with her, touching her.

"Oui, we started. You fell asleep, zough." He wouldn't tell her how relieved he had been when she had. He didn't want her to take that wrong, nor did he want to explain that touching her had been one of the most uncomfortable things he had ever done in his life.

"I'm such a fool," Emma said, mostly to herself. Simonne ducked past Richard and wrapped her arms around Emma.

"Non, soeur de mon coeur, you are not a fool. Humans, we are prone to acting on our emotions, and it does not always work out so well, doing zat. But zat it was makes us who we are. Last night, it was exciting for you, oui? So many zings happened to get you...not balanced, emotionally. Part of zat is my fault. I did not zink zat you would be uncomfortable at ze idea of Richard and I being together. If I had not walked away, angry...perhaps if I had stayed and talked to you, eased your concerns, zen zis would not have happened."

"This is in no way your fault," Emma protested.

"It must be," Simonne replied. "You were wanting to sleep with Etienne to get back and Richard et moi."

"Well, yes," Emma admitted. "I thought maybe you'd...I don't know. I guess I was hoping you'd feel as...jealous," Oh, how that word stuck in her throat! "If I had sex with your brother."

"If you had managed to have sex with Etienne, I would have been overjoyed," Simonne said with a laugh. "Because zen, mon père and his wife, zey will pester Etienne about getting married and continuing the family name, and zey will stop trying to make me do it. Now, Emma, we must talk, you and I. Let us get you, ah...neatened up, and we will take a walk around ze city, and we will work zings out between us." She led Emma down the hall and out of sight, leaving Richard and Etienne alone.

The two men looked at each other for a long, tense moment. Finally, Etienne said "Would you like some coffee while you decide if you are still going to kill me?" Richard looked at Etienne for a moment and said "Yes. Mm, thank you."

"Have a seat," Etienne told him as he stood and hopped over to the cabinets and grabbed a clean mug. Richard realized he had come very close to beating the living hell out of a one legged man, and felt a pang of guilt. Of course, he had shot a teenage boy, once upon a time, and felt no remorse for it, so why would the thought of hurting Etienne bother him?

_Probably because Etienne didn't actually do anything wrong, where as the D'Alessio kid was an unholy terror in training. _

"I completely understand your desire to kill me," Etienne said as he poured the coffee. "And I will be honest and say zat I do deserved to be hit for causing Emma to be so upset. I just have never had a woman act zat way towards me. Most, zey figure out zat I have no interest in zem. But your sister..."

"You're probably, mm. The first...um..." he trailed off, not wanting to use any of the terms he knew because they were all so vulgar.

"Not very many nice words for it, are zere?" Etienne said with a small chuckle as he hopped back to the table with Richard's coffee. Richard was amazed that he was able to do it without spilling a drop. "One of ze British companies zat were stationed near us, zey called me and ozers like me 'bum boys'. Zat works. It is not too offensive and it is accurate. Ah, I apologize. Zis makes you uncomfortable." Richard shifted slightly...it did make him uncomfortable, but he had no room to judge, murder being a greater sin in his mind.

"You are, mm. Who you are," he said at last. "It's not. My place to, mm. Judge your life."

"Merci," Etienne said. "Most people, zey do not feel ze same. Mais, zat is not ze issue. Ze issue is still Emma..."

"But you. Said that, mm. Nothing happened?"

"Nozing did happen, I swear zat on my life. Non, ze issue is zat you must talk with Emma. She is jealous...perhaps afraid as well, zat if Simonne is in your life, zere will be no place for her."

"She told. You this?"

"Not is so many words. I do not zink she realizes it herself. Mais, it was clear from what she did say last night." He recounted what Emma had said, ending with "I would not normally repeat zese zings, but because my sister's happiness is also involved, I feel I must tell you. I assure you, I do not envy you to be stuck between two lovely, headstrong women."

"But I'm not. Stuck, mm between them. Emma is my. Sister, mm. Simonne...isn't" He was going to have to figure out what Simonne was to him, find out if she would be in his life more than just occasionally. Was a relationship with him in Atlantic City and her in Paris practical? Not at all. But he had too many obligations and responsibilities to leave A.C. and he assumed Simonne was the same and therefore unable to just up and leave Paris. Emma understood that he wouldn't be coming back to Wisconsin any time soon, although he supposed he still needed to talk to her about Simonne. But did he have this talk with her before or after he talked to Simonne? He briefly wondered if he could turn time back about six or seven months, go back to a time where the most complex issue in his life was whether or not Jimmy would have someone for him to kill. But he knew that was impossible. And besides, did he really want to go back to that time in his life when he was wrapped tight in that wall of loneliness and despair, peering through it as life passed him by? Not really. He was liking the man he was becoming, now that he wasn't so hidden from the world. But that didn't make his present dilemma any clearer. The fact that he had no prior experience even remotely like this did not help. He highly doubted that _anyone _ had experience with a situation like this.

He chewed on his lip as he thought, something he hadn't done much since his injury, but it was a trait he and Emma had shared in their youth. Given the talk he had just had with Emma, it was up to her at this point to figure out how she felt about him, his life, and his current inability to return to the farm. So he supposed he was going to have to talk to Simonne next, see if there was any hope for a future between them. But what if there wasn't? What if things couldn't be worked out? If that happened, and if Emma decided his life was too much for her sisterly love, where would that leave him? Back in the shadows, alone, no laughter, no love...

"I do not know what you are zinking," Etienne said suddenly, "but please stop. You are looking very unhappy."

"Mm, sorry," Richard murmured. He pulled his thoughts away from darker topics and said to Etienne "Why doesn't, mm. Simonne like to talk. About herself?"

What Etienne told him gave him a great deal of insight into why Simonne was the woman she was.


	7. Chapter 7

That evening Simonne had a performance and after that she and Etienne were obligated to go to dinner at their father's house, so that left Richard and Emma to spend the evening together. Richard was afraid it would be awkward, all things considered, but when Emma stepped out of her hotel, the first thing she did was give Richard a strong hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"What, mm, is that for?" he asked, because the last time she'd done that Richard had just taken the blame and the punishment for something Emma had done. Emma just laughed and smiled at her brother.

"Simonne said you probably wouldn't have figured it out yet," she said enigmatically. "And she made me promise not to tell you if you hadn't. She said it would be better if you figured it out on your own."

"You two, mm. Worked things out, then?" Richard asked as they began walking. Etienne had given him a map and directions to a couple of different places they might enjoy, so Richard was heading in the direction of a restaurant Etienne recommended.

"Yes," Emma said. "That woman is incapable of holding a grudge, it seems. She said she completely understands that I only have your best interest at heart, and that it was her fault for breaking it to me in such an indelicate manner. Which is ridiculous because I'm the one who brought it up out of nowhere, knowing full well she would answer me honestly. So I feel even worse for the way I acted because she was apparently over it five minutes after she walked out of Etienne's apartment. And she said I was probably right with some of the things I said. She said she tried very hard to imagine herself surviving on the farm and she's fairly certain she would fail because she was inept at cooking, wouldn't know what to do with a cow, and didn't get how a live chicken became dinner. She understands that eggs come from chickens, but the poor girl thought chickens only laid eggs if they were fertilized so she  
>always felt bad eating baby chickens. I set her straight on that, but I think I almost made her sick when I told her what a fertilized egg looks like when you crack it open. I mean, she turned the most frightening shade of green! I didn't think it was <em>that<em> bad, really..."

"You have to. Understand," Richard interjected. "Simonne, mm. Never left Paris. Until this. Year, and then. All she, mm, did was take. A train...through the countryside. Get on a ship for a, mm. Week, then go. From big city to. Big city. Do you, mm. Ever notice the. Wistful look. She gets, mm. When you talk about...the farm?"

"I have, actually. I always wondered at it."

"For Simonne, our. Farm is, mm. Like Paris was. To us, mm. Someplace so completely different. From the only...thing. Mm, you know. Sure, you've. Read about it, but mm, it almost...seems to good. To be true. So you don't. Quite...believe in it, but. Mm, at the. Same time, all you want. Is to. Be there. When I first. Met her, mm. She seemed most interested. In the solitude. And the openness. She said...sometimes. There are alleys where. You, mm. Can't see the sky. And there are. Always people around. She longs for. Mm, a place where it's just her. And her thoughts. Can you see. Why, mm. The farm seems so. Interesting to her?"

"Yes," Emma admitted. "But by the same logic, can you see why she could probably never live on one?"

"You're forgetting. Human ability to, mm. Adapt. I think Simonne. Would mm, be able. To earn her keep."

"Thinking of bringing her home with you some day?" Emma asked playfully.

"This is, mm. The restaurant," he said, holding the door open for her.

"Nice way of avoiding my question," Emma said with a grin as she stepped through the door. Richard grinned back at her and followed. Once they were seated and had ordered, they chatted about inconsequential things for a time, but once their food arrived, topics turned to more important matters.

"While Simonne and I were out," Emma said, "I gave a lot of thought to what you told me earlier. About your...responsibilities and, um...current employment." Richard pushed his food around on his plate, nervously waiting for her response. He was not automatically going to assume that she would say she couldn't deal with it, although he was braced for it, just in case. "When you first told me, I admit, I was appalled, but after further thought, I understand why you do what you do. Well, sort of. I admire your loyalty, not only to your friend, but to his son. I don't think too many men in your line of work would do what your doing, for the reasons you're doing them. Just promise me you'll be as safe as can be. And know that, if there ever is a time when you're ready to walk away, there's always a place for you at home."

Richard looked at his sister carefully, and after a moment, he nodded. "Thank you," he said. "That means. A lot to. Me."

"Good," Emma replied. "And know, if you feel compelled to bring home a certain perky little French sprite, I'm sure we'll have hours of entertainment watching her try to milk a cow." Richard couldn't help but laugh at the mental picture of Simonne trying it. "She'd probably. Talk, mm, to the cow, and, mm. Have the cow milking. Herself...by the time she's. Mm done."

Emma laughed at that as well. "She would! Now, stop pushing your food around your plate and eat, Richard," she lightly scolded. Richard looked around the restaurant, noted that there was no one sitting near them, and popped a small bite of food into his mouth. He hated eating with his mask on, it was so awkward getting the food into his mouth, and the chewing sometimes made his mask rub against his scars, but he didn't know when he might next sit down for dinner with his sister, and he didn't want to ruin this evening. They ate and talked, and before they knew it, the waiter was clearing their plates and bringing them their check. Richard settled the bill, and the Harrow twins headed out to explore Paris a bit. Richard offered his sister his arm, and they walked and took in the sights. He told her about the day he had met Simonne. Emma noticed a slight change in Richard's demeanor as he spoke of that day. It was almost like she was seeing the brother she had seen off for basic training, not the brother who had come home shell-shocked and scarred. The soft tone of his voice spoke more than his actual words, especially when he spoke of that magical moment on top of the Eiffel Tower, describing the view, the feeling of being on top of the world, the moment Simonne had leaned in and kissed him.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Emma asked gently, watching his face carefully.

"I think. Mm, I am," he admitted. "But I don't. Know. I can't compare. What, mm. I feel for her. To anything I've ever. Felt before. It's different. From everything."

"I'm certainly not an expert, but I think when you fall in love with someone, it's supposed to be different. I mean, there's love for your family, which is like a soft warm blanket. And love for a true friend, which is..." She waved her hands a bit, as if she were trying to draw the words to her.

"It's a. mm, pull," Richard said, thinking of how he had felt for Jimmy. "You just. Need to, mm. Be there, and have them there. When you. Need them. You know...that you. Would do, mm. Anything for them. And that. They would. Mm, do anything. For you"

"Right. And I guess, since when you fall in love with someone, they become your family, and your friend, and something more besides, I would think that true love is like family love, plus your love for a friend, but there's something more besides, because this person that you're in love with is so much more than just family, or just a friend."

Richard regarded his sister, amazed at her insight. She might not be an expert, but she had just nailed what he felt whenever he was around Simonne on the head.

"If you are in love with her," Emma said, looking at him with an odd glimmer in her eyes. "I wish the two of you nothing but happiness. She's done a lot for you. She's helped you find yourself again. I wish I could have, but I wasn't the right person to do it."

"I think. I needed to hit, mm, my lowest point," Richard said, "before I really. Started to,mm. Heal." And so he told her about the day in the woods, when he had come so close to ending his life. He tried to explain how bleak it had been for him, the desperation that drove him to that point. But it was so hard to recapture that, because he had moved so far beyond it in the months since. It was almost like trying to explain a book that someone who had only skimmed it had told him about. It just didn't quite work, not to his satisfaction, but Emma understood, and she listened carefully to his story, and when he was done she said "So, really, I need to thank the Darmodys, a scarred dog, two scruffy woodsmen, and Simonne for bring you back?"

"Mm, yes," Richard admitted, echoing her small smile. Wordlessly, Emma slipped her arm around her brother's waist and gave him a hug, it was like the ones they used to share in their youth, when they would tell each other their hopes, dreams and fears. Richard wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and as their eyes met, he felt another one of those pieces of him slip back into place. And when it did, something became crystal clear to him: When he had thought Etienne had taken advantage of Emma, the only thought on his mind was to go hurt Etienne for doing that to his sister. That wasn't the action of a man who felt nothing for someone. That was the action of a brother who was terribly concerned for the sister he loved.

"Oh." That was all he said as the realization sank in. Such a small word, but Emma heard a world of amazement and wonder in it. He had said the same thing in the same tone often when they were younger, from coming across two fox kits in the shrubs when they were eight, to the first time they saw the glory of a meteor shower, or when their mother was explaining their lessons and Richard finally understood a tricky problem. In that tiny word, Emma knew her brother was one step closer to coming home. She knew he might never come back, and she was slowly starting to accept that. It was hard, but after spending the day wit Simonne, she looked at the situation differently than she had. What she really wanted now, more than anything, was for Richard to be happy with who he was.

"Figured something out, did you?" she asked quietly.

"Mm, I know. Why you hugged me. Earlier," he replied, looking at her as if he saw her in a new light. And in a way, he did. It was the first time he'd looked at her in a long time and felt something other than _. It wasn't exactly the full force of emotion that he recalled, but it was definitely love.

That was all either of them said for a while. They walked along in comfortable silence, then Emma asked Richard to describe Atlantic City, then she asked him what Tommy was like, then if he had kept up on reading, and question after question, trying to catch up with as much of his life as she could. They stopped for coffee at a small café,although Richard did nothing more than occasionally stir his, and they talked mostly of 'remember when' moments. And before they knew it, it was well past eleven o'clock. It was turning colder, the snow coming down as stinging pellets rather than the soft, fluffy flakes of the night before. Richard hailed a cab, saw Emma up to her hotel room, although he declined her invitation to stay a while. As much as he would have wanted to stay, he was tired, and he had so much to think about. He bid her good night, hailed a cab, went back to his hotel, and when he finally laid down he repeated one phrase...

_I love you, Simonne..._

_While the Harrow dinner went well, the Delacroix dinner did not..._

Simonne was trying to come up with plausible excuses she could use to escape what was becoming a long, boring dinner with her father, step-mother, brother and some of her father's business associates. She was tired of making chit-chat with the stodgy old lawyer who had been handling her father's affairs for years, and she was fairly certain if he said, just one more time, that she was the spitting image of her mother, she was going to shove a fork through his eye. She looked at the clock on the wall, then rolled her eyes. She'd been there two hours, and saw no signs of getting out any time soon. She caught Etienne's eye across the table and made a face. He gave a tiny shrug, stuck as he was in conversation with one of their father's younger associates, perhaps he wasn't quite as miserable as she was?

She nodded and "mm-hmm"ed as the man next to her talked, once more, about how much she looked like her mother, and how it was a shame her mother passed as such a young age, and oh, her mother had been the belle of Paris, and it was clear Simonne was on her way to being the same, and on and on...darn, the servants had already cleared her dirty silverware...no fork through his eye, it seemed.

She was about to make some excuse about needing to use the bathroom when her father stood up and cleared his throat.

"My friends, thank you for joining myself and my family for the evening. Amazing to think another year is nearly at an end. I raise a glass to a new year filled with prosperity. And to that end, I actually have an announcement to make. Pierre Dubois presented an offer for my daughter's hand, and I have accepted it."

Simonne's head snapped up, first looking at her father, then to the man sitting beside him, this Pierre Dubois. She had been introduced to him earlier, but had not had any sort of conversation with him, since her step-mother, Marie, insisted on hounding Simonne about standing up straighter and at least looking like she wanted to be there, along with scathing remarks about Simonne's choice of dress. Pierre looked down the table at her and gave her a smile that made the skin on her back shiver, not pleasantly. She then looked across the table to Etienne, who looked as stunned as she felt. Her next glance was at her step-mother, who looked like the cat who had just gotten the canary.

There was a cry of 'Congratulations!' and glasses were raised and drained. Simonne felt numb inside. She did not want to marry this man, this absolute stranger. There had to be someway out of this?

"Papa," Simonne said, "may I speak with you a moment, please?"

"You are not getting out of this, Simonne," Marie said from the end of the table. "It has been arranged."

"But..."

"Ah, ma chérie," Pierre said in what should have been a reassuring tone but did nothing to soothe Simonne. "I know this comes as a shock, but do not worry. It is for the best."

Not my best, Simonne wanted to scream. But she had a feeling that would be pointless. The only one here who would care was Etienne, and he was as powerless as she was in this situation. She sank into herself, ignoring everything around her as she tried to think of some way to get out of this horrible situation. It must have been nearly an hour later when she found Pierre Dubois at her arm.

"Come, Simonne," he said "We must go share the joyous news with my family," he said, holding her coat out to her.

"I, um..." She was going to say she'd rather not, but she knew that would be pointless. So with a sigh, she stood and slipped into her coat. While Pierre shook hands with everyone Simonne ducked over to Etienne, nearly breaking into tears when he hugged her.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, knowing full well she wasn't

"No," she whispered back. "This is horrible. I don't want to marry him."

"I'll try to talk to Papa," Etienne promised. "Assuming I can get Marie away from him for a few minutes."

"I can only wish you luck," she said. "I will try to be a horrible person so he doesn't want to marry me."

"You don't have a horrible bone in your body," Etienne said with a small smile.

"I can but try," she said, giving him one last squeeze. "I shouldn't be too late. I will meet his family, then plead a headache. Not that I do not have one building. At least it won't be a lie."

Etienne couldn't think of anything to say, so he only hugged her tighter before letting her go. He watched as Dubois possessively took Simonne's arm and led her from his parents house. Then he looked around the room, noticing that Marie was busy flirting with one of his father's long standing friends, and his father was alone by the mantle. Etienne quickly moved to his father's side, grabbed his arm, and led him away from the crowd.

"What was that?" Etienne hissed. "How could you do that to Simonne?"

"Had to," his father replied. It was obvious that Gerard Delacroix was very drunk. "Dubois threatened to call in our debts if I didn't give him Simonne."

"You sold her!" Etienne cried, not realizing his voice had risen.

"It was that or we end up broke," Marie hissed. She had approached them when she saw them talking. "If your sister does not marry him, we lose the house, the land, everything."

"So what?"

"So what?" Marie spat. "Do you want to give up that posh little apartment? Do you want to loose everything that allows you to live your deviant lifestyle?"

Etienne's eyes narrowed, and he came very close to punching his step-mother. He looked from her, to his father, then shook his head.

"You've just ruined her," he said, backing away from them. "Possibly killed her. She does not want to do this, but you do not care, do you? Either of you?" And he turned and left, went home and waited for Simonne to come home. He would get her out of this. He had to.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So, reading through the past few chapters, I've noticed an insane amount of typos, and I apologize for those. See, when I'm at wor, and we're slow, and the owner's not around, I work on the stories on my phone, which means I run into the problem of sometimes hitting the wrong key, or it'll go into word predict at odd times. I do read through the chapters before I post, but you know how sometimes you see what you expect to see, and not what's there? Well that's what tends to happen, so when I go to check a plot point I see every little error. So, I do apologize for my annoying, silly typos.**

Etienne woke the next morning to someone pounding on his door. He threw on a robe and grabbed his crutch, making his way to the door. When he opened it he was greeted with a hard slap to his face.

"Good morning to you, too, Marie," he said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"How dare you make a scene in front of your father's associates? Do you know how it looks to them when they see you questioning his decisions?"

"It was Papa's decision to marry Simonne off? You had nothing to do with it?"

"The decision was made for the good of the family!"

"No it wasn't!" Etienne roared. "It was made for the good of you! If it was the good of the family, you'd have talked to Simonne about it. You would have taken her feelings into consideration!"

"She has known for years this could happen. It is time for her to grow up, stop prancing around the stage like some gutter-born..."

"Do not finish that sentence," Etienne warned. "You know full well that our mother, the woman Papa still loves even after all these years, was as you put it, gutter born."

Marie's nostrils flared. She hated to be reminded that her husband still loved his dead wife. "It is Simonne's duty to the family..." Etienne slammed the door in her face and locked it as loudly as he could, making it clear to his step-mother that the conversation was over. He listened to her stomp away, then he went to Simonne's room to check on her, surprised the commotion at the door hadn't woken her. But Simonne wasn't there. Etienne assumed that she had spent the night with Richard. She probably went over there to break the news to him. Etienne went to the kitchen to make coffee. He would call Richard's room later. Let the two have a few more hours together, he thought. Bad enough they would be torn apart just as they were discovering their love. Etienne cursed his father and more vehemently his step-mother for doing this to Simonne. All for money, all to keep the material comforts. Yes, Etienne liked his apartment, which was paid for from his inheritance, but he would give it up in an instant if it meant Simonne's happiness. How could he get her out of this predicament?

* * *

><p>Richard woke shortly after dawn, took a quick bath and got dressed, and sat down to try to read the one book he'd brought with him, but his thoughts kept turning to Simonne. He couldn't wait to see her. He wanted to tell her he was in love with her. Even if she didn't feel the same, he wanted her to know she had inspired in him something he never thought he would ever feel. And he wanted her to know that he had realized he did love his sister, deep inside of himself. He would never had known that if not for Simonne. Who else would have thought to bring them together? It was the phone ringing that drew him from his thoughts. "Mm, hello?" God he really hated the phone.<p>

"You and Simonne must come over right now," Etienne said with no preamble. "I zink I have a solution, mais it is somezing zat will need your help, Richard."

"Simonne, mm. Isn't here."

"What do you mean, Simonne is not zere?"

_What else could I mean other than she's not here_? is what Richard thought but the urgent note in Etienne's voice made him say instead "I thought. She was, mm. Staying with you? Didn't you. Have dinner. With, mm. Your family last night?"

"Oui mais...she did not come to see you after?"

"No. What's mm, wrong?"

"Stay at your hotel," Etienne said. "In case Simonne shows up. I will call you back." Before Richard could say anything else, the call had ended, and Richard found himself looking the phone trying to figure out what that was about.

Etienne called Emma's room next, with the same results. Then he called his father, but instead he ended up on the phone with Marie who informed him that she was most likely still with her new _fiancé_ and would come home when he was done with her. Etienne ground his teeth together and hung up, wracking his brain for other possible places Simonne might be. There were very few people Simonne considered true friends, and most of them, he discovered, were out of town for the holidays. Etienne paced, called Richard and Emma again, with the same results. But this time, Richard demanded to know what exactly was going on, and when Etienne told him, Richard felt his fragile world shatter. "She does not want to marry zis man," Etienne assured him. "It had been my zought zat you might take Simonne with you, back to America. To hell with ze money. Nozing is worth Simonne's happiness. And if she marries zis man, she will not be happy." Richard felt a glimmer of hope. Why couldn't he take Simonne with him? Would she come? Could he make her happy? He pushed those thoughts aside. Right now, they had to find her. "What, mm. Can I do to. Help?"

"I do not know," Etienne said. "For now, stay in your room. I zink Simonne will go to you, or back to ze apartment. I am going to have Emma come here, and I am going to go and look in some of ze places she might be. Zere are not many options, many of ze places are closed for ze holidays."

* * *

><p>Emma felt a bit odd being alone in Etienne's apartment, but when he had explained the situation, she agreed it was the most logical course of action for her to stay there while Etienne combed the city. She fully agreed Simonne would either go home or go to Richard's room, and the chances of her going to Emma's room were slim, since it was likely that Emma would be with Richard andor Etienne. Etienne rushed out of the door as soon as Emma had settled herself, telling her to make herself at home. So the first thing Emma did was wash up Etienne's coffee mess then swept his kitchen floor. That managed to kill ten minutes. Next Emma got a bit nosy and started looking at pictures on the mantle. Two really caught her attention. At first she thought they were both Simonne, which was odd because the pictures were nearly identical. A ballerina, balancing on the toes of one foot, the other leg stretched out behind, arms extended in front of her. Emma looked closely at each photo, and realized after some time that one was actually much older than the other. Looking around the make sure she was still alone (which she realized was silly, who would be around?), Emma carefully pulled the photos from the frames and looked at the back of each. One, the newer, had Simonne Delacroix 1919 written on it. The other said Antoinette Le Marche Delacroix 1892 on it's back. Emma flipped both pictures over and studied them some more. Antoinette must be Etienne and Simonne's mother. The resemblance to Simonne was eerie. Emma carefully put the pictures back in their frames and put them back where she had gotten them from.

Last night, Richard had told Emma what he had learned from Etienne about Simonne and her tendency to never talk about herself.

When Simonne was born, the delivery proved to much for the delicate Antoinette, who had had a difficult labor with Etienne three years previous, and Antoinette ended up passing away hours after Simonne's birth. Their father, Gerard, had love Antoinette more than anything, and her death nearly destroyed him. He had never been able to look at Simonne as anything other than 'the thing that killed his wife', an attitude that was encouraged by the woman he took to wife a year later, Marie Favreau. Marie fed his notion that Antoinette would still be alive if not for Simonne, and added Etienne into the mix by convincing Gerard that Etienne's birth started Antoinette's failing health. All Simonne wanted growing up was for her father, just once, to look at her with happiness if not love. And, according to Etienne, Simonne did whatever she could to make her father happy. But nothing seemed to work, and Simonne wondered if it was her, personally, that seemed to make him miserable. So she began doing what she could to make others around her happy. She had a knack for sensing what a person needed and she would move mountains to make it happen. But nothing impressed her father, and as her home life grew more discontented, Simonne began looking for ways to escape. The ballet seemed a natural choice, since it had been her mother's calling, and in fact Gerard Delacroix fell in love with Antoinette when he saw her dancing. She thought that maybe her father would love her if she danced, but all it did was remind him of his dead wife, and the distance between father and daughter widened. Marie did her best to alienate Gerard from his children, and in the end she succeeded. Etienne joined the army, Simonne threw herself into the ballet. When Gerard and Marie (mostly Marie, Etienne admitted...Gerard seemed to leave the decisions to her anymore) announced to Etienne one day shortly after he returned from the army that they had found a wife for him, he told them about his sexuality, never thinking that in saving himself, he had condemned Simonne to the same fate. Sure, Marie often said that Simonne would have to marry someday, but Simonne had somewhat planned to be long gone by then. But apparently it was too late. Emma couldn't believe that in this day and age, parents would still sell their children into marriage. It was the twentieth century for goodness sake, not the middle ages.

Poor Simonne, Emma thought as she looked at the two pictures once more. The one person she wanted to make happy, she couldn't. And because she couldn't make her father, who was supposed to love her no matter what, happy, she began to assume there was something very wrong with her. So, Etienne had told Richard, to keep others from finding out what was wrong with her and therefore not liking her, Simonne would tell nothing of her life to anyone. "As long as zey were happy, Simonne was content. That is all she wants from life...for people to feel a happiness she does not feel. She does not zink families should be against each ozer, because she knows first hand how painful zat is." That was why she had been so adamant in reuniting Emma and Richard. Outside of the fact that she genuinely liked them both, she couldn't bear the thought of a family torn asunder.

Emma sighed and looked around the apartment for something to do to pass the time. She ended up in the kitchen, chopping vegetables to make a stew. Etienne had said to make herself at home, after all, and Emma was quite at home in the kitchen. She figured, if Simonne did show up sometime soon, the four of them could sit down around a hearty bowl and figure out how to get Simonne out of this marriage. If Simonne didn't show up, well...the stew could simmer for hours and they could catch a meal as they could. But Emma didn't let her thoughts linger in that direction. She was worried sick for Simonne. Where could she be? Emma's imagination was vivid enough that should could picture every scenario from Simonne lying dead in a ditch somewhere to her being charmed by the Dubois family and becoming convinced that the marriage would be a good thing. But that didn't seem like something Simonne would do, especially not if this Pierre Dubois made her skin crawl the way Etienne said it did. And Simonne certainly wouldn't just up and leave without explaining to Richard, would she? Emma chopped carrots, onions, potatoes, cubed some beef and threw it all into a pot. She had a field day with Etienne's spice rack. He had a bunch of spices she had never seen before, and she found herself opening each neatly labeled little jar and smelling the contents, taking a small taste of some she was unfamiliar with, tossing in a bit of this and a pinch of that. By the time she was done cleaning up after herself, she had managed to kill almost two hours. Still nothing from Simonne.

* * *

><p>Back in his hotel room, Richard pulled out his suitcase and dug through it until he came across his guns. He hadn't been carrying them, but he certainly brought them. The smaller ones, anyway. He had left his rifle back in his room in Atlantic City, wrapped tightly and tucked away in his closet. He hoped he wasn't going to regret leaving it at home. He carefully cleaned and loaded each one, tucking his Colt into it's holster, slipping the weighty Roth-Styer into one jacket pocket, the smaller Mauser into the other. Richard Harrow instinctively knew someone was going to die.<p>

* * *

><p>Etienne went to all the places Simonne was most likely to be, then the places she would possibly be, then the places she probably wouldn't be but he had to check anyway because he didn't know what else to do. When he finally exhausted the possibilities, he went back to his apartment, hoping and praying Simonne was there, laughing over all the fuss they'd been making. Two things were obvious when he got home: Something smelled delicious and Simonne still wasn't home. "Anything?" Emma asked when he walked in.<p>

Etienne shook his head as he hung up his coat. "You have not heard from her?"

"Not a thing," Emma said sadly. She followed Etienne into the kitchen. He went straight to the stove and gave an appreciative sniff of the stew before taking a taste. "Zat is quite good," he said, going back for a second taste.

"Thank you," Emma said. "I hope you don't mind. I was bored and worried, and you did say to make myself at home."

"Belle Emma, you can move in if zere are more dishes like zis up your sleeve!" Etienne said with a small laugh. It helped ease his mood some, although it was clear he was still worried. "Let me call Richard," he said. He went to the phone, asked Richard if he'd heard from Simonne, then invited him over when Richard said he hadn't. "I'll stay here,mm. In case she. Shows up."

"Are you sure?" "Yes. I'll let you. Know if...I mm hear anything."

"Merci, Richard. I will call you if she comes here."

"Nothing?" Emma said when Etienne came back into the kitchen. "No. Ah, merci," he said as she placed a bowl of stew on the table for him. They ate in silence, then cleaned up the kitchen together. To distract them both, Emma quizzed Etienne on his spice rack, learning what the new spices were, how he used them, trading tips and cooking secrets. It didn't completely keep their minds from Simonne but it helped for a bit. Finally, Etienne found himself stifling a yawn. "I should go," Emma said. "You need to rest, and who knows? Maybe Simonne knows I'm here and won't come up for fear of interrupting something." Etienne laughed, more in appreciation for the attempted joke than the joke itself. Etienne offered to walk her down and hail a cab for her but Emma assured him she could manage on her own. She grabbed her coat, told him to get some rest and bid him goodnight.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This is a rather dark, graphic chapter. It jumps back and forth between what is going on, and what happened while Simonne was missing.**

Etienne didn't exactly sleep. He sat on the couch, dozed occasionally, but he couldn't settle enough to try to lay down. He would not have been shocked to discover that neither Richard or Emma could sleep either.

So it was that he was able to hear the light tapping on his door around three o'clock in the morning on Christmas eve.

He hurried to the door and opened it, a cry of shock escaping when he saw Simonne. Her face was bruised and bloody, eyes swollen nearly shut, lips split open. Her clothes were torn, and her could see bruises along her neck. She held her left arm awkwardly against her body, and she seemed to be placing most of her weight on one leg. Before he could ask where she had been, what happened, who did this to her, she pitched forward into Etienne's arms, unconscious. Not sure what else to do with her, he dragged her to her bedroom and heaved her up onto her bed. She gave a cry when her left arm was jostled, but she didn't regain consciousness. Etienne looked her over and was shocked and frightened when he realized the insides of her legs were streaked with blood.

He ran immediately for the phone.

"_Louis? It's Etienne. Yes, I know it is very early on Christmas eve, but it's an emergency. It's Simonne...she's...I think she's...please, just come over and examine her. And hurry."_

"Richard? It is Etienne. Simonne is home...no, I do not zink she is alright. My friend Louis, he is a doctor, and he is on his way to look at her...I am going to call Emma. Go by her hotel and bring her here."

"Emma? It is Etienne. Simonne is home. I just spoke with Richard. He is going to come by to get you, then you are both coming here. No...she...she has been hurt badly, Emma," and here Etienne had to choke back a sob. He hung up the phone and tried to compose himself, then got a bowl of warm water and a rag and took them to Simonne's room, where he began gently cleaning some of the blood from her face. He was so afraid of hurting her more that he did nothing more than clean the worst of it. Then he sat at her side, holding her right hand and quietly weeping for her until there was a knock on his door. It was Louis, a man he had known since their earliest days in school.

"_Thank you for coming over," _Etienne said as he led Louis to Simonne's room. _"She was missing all day yesterday, and suddenly there she is. I think she's been...there's blood, Louis...so much blood."_

"_Calm down, Etienne," _Louis soothed. _"I will take a look. Please get me some warm water and clean rags." _

Etienne fetched the water and rags, and had intended to stay near to hand in case Louis needed anything else, but as his friend cut away the ruins of Simonne's clothing, and Etienne beheld the damage that had been done to his sister's body, he had to run to the bathroom to be sick. Bites, bruises, burns, blood covered her body. Etienne washed his face with trembling hands and stood leaning over the sink for a long moment. He felt sick and angry and murderous and completely helpless. He had no idea what to do now. This could not go unpunished, but he didn't know how to go about that. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He would figure that out later. He went back to Simonne's room and peered through the door only at Louis' back.

"_I don't think you want to watch me work, Etienne. Whoever did this was certainly not kind to her."_

"_Will she be alright?"_

"_I don't know." _

Etienne walked away, closing the door gently behind him. It wasn't long after that when Richard and Emma arrived, looking exhausted and worried, and in Richard's case, close to killing something. They went into the kitchen and sat down, Etienne made coffee while he filled them in with what few details he had. And then they waited for Louis to finally emerge from the bedroom, which he did after an unbearably long time, looking pale, tired and shocked. He gratefully took the cup of coffee Etienne offered and sank into an empty chair, placing a bundled, bloody rag in his lap. Louis knew the three people staring at him were eagerly awaiting him to speak, but he took his time gathering his thoughts because he honestly did not want to talk about the state Simonne was in. But finally, he had too, because Emma asked "Is she alright?"

Louis looked at Emma, then Richard, and then turned to Etienne and spoke in French. The two men conversed for a moment, and then Etienne said, "Emma, Louis zinks zat, perhaps you would be best served to leave ze room. Ze details are...disturbing, and he is not wanting to upset you."

"I appreciate the concern," Emma said. "But I'm already upset, and I'm not exactly a wilting flower. I think I can handle it."

Louis nodded and began talking, starting with the broken left arm and going from there. As he listed Simonne's injuries, and gave his speculation of how she came by them, Emma felt the color drain from her face. And when he opened that bloody, bundled rag and began showing them what he had pulled from up in side Simonne, Emma had to run from the room, her hand held over her mouth.

"You are Richard Harrow?" Louis said to Richard. Richard nodded. "Whoever did zat to Simonne, it seems zey did not like finding zis on her." Louis tossed something at Richard, who caught it and looked at it carefully. It was the dog tag he had given Simonne.

"What do you, mm. Mean?" Richard asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Louis licked his lips and kept his eyes on the table top. "Zey...zere are burns on her chest, zat exact shape and size. Zere is one, here," he tapped the center of his chest "zat...you can clearly read most of your name and rank. I can not imagine how hot zey had to have had it..."Louis shook his head although he would never quite shake free of the images. "Zen zey...shoved it...inside of her..." Richard listened with growing horror as Louis continued. He could feel himself falling into the cold, calculating mode that had made him so very valuable to Jimmy. It wasn't a rage, in fact, Richard really felt nothing beyond the need to make whoever did this to Simonne dead.

"...and assuming no infection sets in, I zink she will survive," Louis was concluding. "Mais, I do not know what zis will do to her, mentally. I can not imagine she will be right in ze head after zis. I am only speculating on what has happened. I am afraid ze truth is much worse."

Louis left instructions for tending Simonne, promised to return to check on her later in the day, and gathered up his things. Etienne saw him to the door.

"_Again, thank you for coming over," _Etienne said quietly as they stood in the hallway. _"And for doing what you could for Simonne. I really appreciate it."_

"_I only wish you had not needed to call me. Do you have any idea who might have done this to her?"_

"_I think it might be Pierre Dubois...Papa and Marie arranged for Simonne to marry him. It was announced at dinner the other night. The last time I saw Simonne, she was leaving with him, so they could go 'share the news with his family'."_

"_I do not think he was the only one there, Etienne. There are at least three different teeth marks on her." _Louis felt horrible for his friend, even worse for his friend's sister, and if he was completely honest with himself, almost regretted answering the phone this morning. He squeezed Etienne's arm, promised to stop by later, and went on his way. Etienne went back into his apartment. He found both Richard and Emma in Simonne's room, looking down at her. Emma had tears rolling down her cheeks. Richard could have been a mannequin for all the emotion he displayed, but Etienne had a feeling that deep inside, Richard was seething with rage. After all, if Monsieur Harrow was willing to kill Etienne over the thought that he had maybe slept with Emma, what would he do to the men who quite obviously abused Simonne?

Truthfully, Etienne hoped that what ever it was, it was painful and bloody.

"_So who is this PFC Richard Harrow?"_

"_I bet he's her lover!"_

"_Got a soldier boy lover, do you, little ballerina?"_

"_An American one at that."_

"_What, think you're too good for a French soldier?"_

"_She probably thinks they're all fagots like her brother."_

"_Are you in love with this Richard Harrow? Is that why you're wearing this? To keep him close to your heart? Here, let's see if we can make sure he stays there..."_

Simonne had sworn she wouldn't scream. But she did scream, until she was unable to scream anymore. After that she could only hoarsely cry, beg and plead for them to stop.

"_I bet you like your American soldier boy up inside of you, don't you, you little whore? Well, since you like him inside of you so much..."_

Emma was sitting at Simonne's bedside. Richard had left the apartment, saying he needed fresh air and a few moments to think. Emma had nodded, understanding. She could hear Etienne moving around in the living room, at a loss for what to do at this point. She understood that, too.

Simonne stirred slightly, whispered something that Emma couldn't make out, and settled once more as Emma place her cool hand on Simonne's forehead.

_The tie was around her neck, pulled tight, forcing her head back. She could barely breathe. One of them shoved into her from behind. Another knelt in front of her and forced himself into her mouth. She bit down. That earned her a smack across the face that had so much force behind it she was knocked onto her side._

"_Hey!" the one who had been behind her cried. "What the hell are you doing? I was in the middle of something."_

"_The bitch bit me!"_

_Someone grabbed her ankle and dragged her across the floor. She tried to fight, but that only resulted in a kick to the ribs. She thought one of them might have cracked. _

_Someone else was on top of her, using her. She opened her eyes as much as she could and made a point to memorize his face. She made sure to memorize all of their faces. _

Richard walked. He had to do something to try and burn off some of the pent up rage that was coursing through his body. The anger he had felt the other day when he thought Etienne had taken advantage of Emma was nothing compared to the anger that burned inside of him like molten fire at the moment. It was so intense it made his head pound. He was completely unaware that people seemed to leave a wide space around him, so intense was the aura of menace surrounding him.

He had gone into his cold, detached killing mood when Louis had described the horrors that had been inflicted upon Simonne, but seeing her laying there so bruised and battered that she was nearly unrecognizable had taken him beyond that murderous calm and into a torturous rage that would only be sated by the complete annihilation of the men who had been so cruel to her. Richard intended to skin them alive, chop them into tiny little pieces, pull out their teeth, cut of their cocks and shove them so far down their throats they choked, shove glass shards under their finger nails, make them scream a thousand times for every hurt they had inflicted upon Simonne. And then maybe, if he was feeling merciful (which was highly unlikely) he would shoot them, although dumping their still breathing remains into the river seemed a fitting option as well. The fiercest punishment Hell had to offer would seem like a vacation compared to the justice Richard would visit upon them.

"_See, gentlemen? I'm a nice enough man to share."_

"_Very generous of you. Hope we didn't break your new toy."_

"_I'm sure she's fine. Besides, I just need her long enough to get control of her father's company, then I'll get rid of her and get a new one."_

They thought she was unconscious, in truth she nearly was, but her left arm was pulsating with pain (not that the rest of her body wasn't, but her left arm was bent at such an unnatural place halfway between her elbow and wrist). There was a ringing in her ears, but the men weren't very far away, nor were they speaking quietly.

And so she listened, very carefully, and put the pieces together.

And she swore if she survived, she would kill them all.


	10. Chapter 10

Simonne would occasionally stir, but never truly awoke, for the better part of the day. Richard came back from his walk, not exactly feeling better but at least able to handle being inside for a time. There was nothing he could do at this point, so it was time to patiently wait. He let himself into Etienne's apartment, finding Etienne sitting on the couch, a stack of letters scattered around him. He looked up as Richard came in. The two men said nothing, what was there to say? _How're you doing? _No...they each knew how the other was doing. This was not a time for trite conversation. Richard gave a small nod and went down the hall to Simonne's room. Emma was still sitting at her bedside, staring off into space. Richard softly cleared his throat, bringing Emma back from where ever her mind had wandered. She looked at her brother and gave a small twitch of the corner of her lips.

"I'll, mm. Sit with her," Richard said. "Go, get some. Rest." Emma nodded and stood, but before she left the room she asked Richard in a very quiet voice "How can anyone do this to a person? How is it possible to be so cruel?"

"There are, mm. Some people who. Feel the need to flaunt. Their power. The easiest way. Mm to do that is to. Take it out...on someone. Weaker." These were the kind of men Richard dealt with. Emma nodded, but he wasn't sure she truly understood how vile some people could really be. For her sake, he hoped she never did. Emma leaned against him for a moment, offering support and taking comfort at the same time. Richard gently told her once more to go get some rest, and took up her seat when she had left the room. He took Simonne's hand in his gently, it was one of the few places on her that didn't seem to be bruised.

_Oh, Simonne! _He thought as he looked at her. _I swore that the next time I saw you, I was going to tell you how much I loved you. And I could see you laughing, gently making fun of me because we both know I would turn shy about it and blush, stammer to get the words out. And maybe you would tell me that you loved me too. _

"Please come. Out of this. With, mm. Your laughter intact," he said softly, remembering Louis' words about how this would affect Simonne mentally. "If you. Lose that...mm, then they will have. Won." He very gently traced the curve of her jaw, barely touching her skin. "Besides." he said, unable to keep a small sob back, "If you. Can't laugh. Mm...how can. I?"

Simonne drifted awake just as the sun was setting. Richard was still at her side, holding her hand, although she could barely open her eyes enough to see, she could tell it was him. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, she gave his hand a small squeeze. He softly asked if she wanted some water. She gave a small nod, and he helped her sit up a bit and he held the glass to her lips. She took small sips, and when she was done Richard gently settled her back down onto the pillow. "I'm here," he whispered, taking her hand again. She drifted back into sleep with those words echoing through her mind.

One of them was always with her whenever she would flit awake. They never asked how she was feeling, or if she was alright. They knew she hurt. They knew she wasn't alright. But she was grateful that they were there, and she realized that these were likely the only three people she could count on. Each time she woke up, she tried to speak, but the sound that came from her throat was nothing but a hoarse whisper, and each time she tried, she was admonished not to speak. And each time she woke up, she found herself drifting back to sleep shortly after she had been given a little bit of water. It didn't take her long to realize they were keeping her sedated. So she tried to refuse to drink the water. But she was really too weak to protest, and she ended up giving in, drinking, and drifting back to sleep.

Her mind kept replaying the horrors, but she watched them much the same way she watched a movie at a theater. She seemed completely detached from what had happened to her, but that was what she had wanted. When she realized what was going to happen to her, when she knew there was no way to escape it, she remembered the wall Richard had built around himself. She made one for herself, hiding behind it with thew few perfectly happy memories she had. They all involved Richard, and somehow the thought of him kept her mind from completely snapping.

But as she lay in that fuzzy not-awake-but-not-quite-asleep state, where she knew what was going on around her but couldn't bring herself to acknowledge it, she knew that something inside of her was broken. She didn't know what, exactly, but there was a sense of wrongness in her. Maybe, once she was allowed to come fully awake, she could figure out exactly why she felt...off.

She didn't know it, but Christmas Eve passed in a quiet blur, as did Christmas day itself. That, she would regret when she found out about it, because she had a special gift for Richard and Emma, and she had planned it's presentation out quite nicely, but it wasn't going to happen now because she couldn't move any part of her body without pain (No, not entirely true...she was able to flex the big toe of her right foot without any pain..._see, Richard? Laughing. Hahaha.) _and she didn't know when she would be awake long enough to give them their present, and she knew she would need to explain it, because Richard and Emma might not see the significance of it. Sometimes the significance of things wasn't so obvious. But sometimes it was. Like the significance of her wearing Richard's dog tag. She'd put it on a ribbon as soon as she could the day he had given it to her, and put it around her neck and tucked it under her blouse and it had felt so right hanging between her breasts. And when Dubois and his friends had seen it there, after they ripped her dress from her shoulders, tore through her shift, they knew why she was wearing it. They knew what it meant to her. And because it meant so much to her, they knew it was something they could use against her. She had screamed when Dubois pulled it from her neck, pleaded with him when he threatened to toss it into the fireplace. The thought that they might destroy that precious memento of her love was enough to send her into a panic, the men saw this and used it to toy with her. If asked, she would admit to being relieved when Dubois forced the dog tag up inside of her before raping her. At least there she knew where it was, knew it was safe.

She wondered where it was now? Groggily she groped at her throat, but it wasn't hanging there. Was it still inside of her? She didn't know, and she began to panic. Where was it? It was her link to Richard. Richard was her link to sanity. She thrashed, tried to ask where it was but still her voice wasn't loud enough.

"Shh, mm. I'm here, Simonne," Richard said soothingly, capturing her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Tag?" Simonne managed to croak out. She pulled her hand from his and tapped her throat, repeating 'tag' as loudly as she could. Richard caught on and said "It's over here. Mm, on your nightstand." He reached over and grabbed it, placed it in her outstretched hand, glad he had taken the time to remove the ruined ribbon and scrub the tag clean. He hadn't been sure she would ever want to see the thing again, truth be told. But watching as she clasped it in her hand like it was a lifeline, seeing her seem to relax into a true sleep, not the mild sedation they'd been keeping her under, he was reminded of the sniper mask he had once needed near him at all times lest he become overly anxious. He gazed at her, afraid that when she finally woke up, the beautiful light in her eyes, the laughter, the joy, would be gone.

Louis came by late Christmas evening to check on Simonne. He seemed satisfied with what he saw, all things considered, and said that they could cut back on the sedation. She should be able to move around with assistance in a couple of days, and he would stop by then to check on her, but if they needed him for anything, they shouldn't hesitate to call him.

And so when Simonne slowly woke up again, she was able to stay awake for longer than five minutes. She realized right away that at least when she was unconscious, she didn't hurt quite as much. But when she was unconscious, she couldn't lay her plans, and she needed to get those taken care of soon. She also needed Richard's help with them. He killed people, so he should be able to help her work out the details.

"_...If you. Can't laugh. Mm...how can. I?"_

Those words were caught in Simonne's mind. Richard needed her laughter. Well, she would have to do her best to give that to him. So a few days later, when she was able to speak above a whisper, although nowhere near a normal volume, she said to Richard "You were right, Richard. Little and squishy are not words a man likes to hear." She found herself having to pause and swallow every three or four words, and her voice seemed huskier than it should have been. Hopefully that would change as she healed. She enjoyed talking to Richard for hours, but if they both had to pause eight times a sentence, they'd never finish a discussion. _I should mention that. That should make him laugh. _

"You didn't!" Richard said, his eye widening with shock. Simonne nodded. She had, actually. That's what got her the first black eye. She had known it stupid to say what she did, but fear gave her a smart mouth and the inability to control it. At least she knew her husband to be had severe insecurities relating to his penis. That information should prove useful.

"C'est vrai. I did. I could not help myself." _Hmm. He's not laughing. _"Believe it or not, I am smiling. Trying to, anyway."

The corner of his mouth twitched up. _It's a start. _

"Do you want, mm. To sit up?"

She shook her head. "What I want." she said, "is a bath." Her scalp itched and her skin felt like it was crawling. Richard nodded. "I think that can. Be arranged, mm." He left the room, and Simonne felt a stab of panic that she couldn't explain. She tried to sit up, crying out in pain when she moved too quickly. Richard was back by her side in an instant, asking if she was alright. The sight of him calmed her down. Emma and Etienne stood near the doorway, looking worried. "I am sorry," Simonne managed to say. "I tried to shift. And I moved wrong." Richard slipped his arms under her and carefully helped her sit up. She grabbed his hand before he could pull it away, holding onto it for dear life. He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed and gently brushed her hair back. Her eyes were still swollen, but she was able to open them somewhat. Richard looked into them and tried to make sense of what he saw there.

Emma stepped away to finish drawing the bath, Etienne gathered clean clothes for his sister, and Richard asked Simonne if she thought she could walk to the bathroom. She was willing to try, and made it, albeit slowly and with Richard's support. Once in the bathroom, Emma helped her out of her nightgown. Simonne got her first look at her abused body, and she spent a few minutes looking at herself in the mirror. She could see Emma behind her, looking like she wanted to say something, but unable to find anything. Simonne caught her eyes in the mirror and said "Do not worry. Zis is one of those times when you just being here is enough. You do not need to find words for me."

Emma looked at Simonne, marveling that she was still soothing those around her, given what she had been through. "Here," she said, gently ushering Simonne to the tub. "Let's get you cleaned up."

The water was warm, soothing although it stung at first in some very unexpected place. She winced as she lowered herself in.

"You have stitches in some...awkward places," Emma said, her discomfort evident despite her attempt to hide it. Simonne sank into the water and relaxed after a moment, feeling some of her aches begin to ease. Emma gave her a moment to relax, then told her to tilt her head back so Emma could wash her hair. Simonne was dismayed to see the bath water around her turn pink, so she closed her eyes as Emma washed blood sweat and who knew what else away. Emma rinsed her hair, then pulled the drain plug. She refilled the tub with slightly warmer water, and Simonne felt herself growing drowsy. She sank into the water as low as she could while keeping her left arm above the water. She closed her eyes and tried to forget everything, just for a moment, but it was impossible.

"What is the date?" she asked Emma.

"December twenty-seventh"

"Oh! I missed Christmas?"

Emma nodded. "Etienne's friend, Louis? He thought it would be best to keep you sedated for a while. He said you lost an awful lot of blood, and you needed some good rest...Simonne? Are you alright?" Emma asked, noting that Simonne was giving her a panicked look.

"Louis? Louis Beaudelaire?"

"I don't know his last name," Emma admitted. "He's shorter than Etienne, kind of husky build, glasses. Simonne?"

...

Richard and Etienne were in the living room. The air in the apartment had eased somewhat with Simonne coming to, but there was still tension and worry. Richard had been turning something in his mind, something that had been bothering him for a few days.

"Etienne? How did your friend. Louis, mm. Know who I was?"

"Hmm?" Etienne asked, not hearing the question. Richard repeated it, adding "You never. Introduced us. But he, mm. Seemed to know. Who I, mm. Was."

Etienne gave it some thought, and while he could come up with a couple plausible explanations, there was always some tiny thing that made them improbable. He was about to ask Richard why it was important when Emma called them to the bathroom, her voice raised with concern.

Richard got there first. He looked in, saw Simonne sitting in the tub, her entire body trembling, her eyes wide and completely blank, lips moving in a silence recitation that no one could make out.

"Mm, What happened?"

"I don't know!" Emma said, moving as Richard moved into the room. At the sound of his voice, Simonne's head had snapped in his direction, and the look in her eyes pulled him to her. He scooped her from the tub, not caring that his shirtsleeves were wet to the elbow now.

"She asked me what day it was," Emma went on, wrapping a towel around Simonne as Richard held her against him. He sat on the toilet and tightened his arms around her, afraid she would shake her way out of his grip. "And I told her, and explained that Louis.." and here Simonne's body gave a violent tremor, and a small cry escaped. Richard looked up at his sister, who continued in a quiet voice "I explained that...the doctor thought it best to keep her sedated for a while, and at the mention of his name, she..." Emma waved her hands at the trembling woman in her brother's arms. Richard was whispering in Simonne's ear, slowly calming her down. He looked at Etienne, who was horror stricken as two and two finally added up to four. The men's eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them.

Simonne calmed, for the most part, although her body still shook and she clung to Richard as tight as she could. He whispered something in her ear, and she gave a small nod in reply. She slowly uncurled herself from Richard's arms, stood on shaking legs, and managed, with a great deal of help from Emma, and Richard as her main support, to get clean, dry clothes on. When she was dressed, Richard gently picked her back up and carried her back to her bedroom.

"Please stay," she begged him as he set her on her bed. Her eyes were still terror-filled, and her body still shook. Richard would never have dreamed of leaving her like this. He hooked the chair leg with his foot, and dragged it closer to the bed, but Simonne managed to scoot over, (all on her own, which she viewed as a minor personal victory. Sure, it hurt like hell, but still...) and looked at Richard expectantly. Richard took of his soggy shirt and hung it over the back of the chair to dry, then slipped out of his shoes and settled himself on the bed next to Simonne. She fitted herself against him and was asleep almost as soon as she had gotten comfortable. Richard lay awake beside her, letting his seething anger at Louis build. Etienne peeked his head into the room, and Richard waved him over.

Etienne looked at his sister, curled up at Richard's side, then he looked at Richard. Rage burned in Etienne's eyes, and well as a look of confusion. He was at a loss for what to do,now He knew Louis had to die, and he was perfectly willing to be the one who did it, but how?

Richard understood, and explained to Etienne his plan, speaking softly so as not to disturb Simonne. Etienne admired the quick thinking on Richard's part, the plan seemed sound, and the one thing Richard wasn't sure of, someplace to actually do it, Etienne was easily able to provide.

"Go, get some. Mm, rest," Richard told Etienne. "We'll take care of it. Mm, in the morning." Etienne nodded.

"Until morning, zen," he said softly, leaving the room.

Richard shifted slightly, trying hard not to disturb Simonne, but she said very softly "Do not forget to ask him who ze ozers were before you kill him."

"I won't," Richard promised her. "I will. Mm, kill them all. For you."

"Non! Some zings, zey must be dealt with personally. You can have Louis...you and Etienne...mais...do not let zis ruin Etienne. Do not let him actually do ze deed. He is too gentle, oui?" Richard nodded. "Ze rest...zey are mine, Richard. I will need your help, mais...I swore I would kill zem. I have to." Her eyes met his, and Richard saw that her grip on sanity was barely there.


	11. Chapter 11

Richard laid awake beside Simonne for most of the night. He was tired, but his mind was too active to allow him to sleep. Plus, he feared rolling over and hurting her if he was asleep. Simonne had settled into slumber shortly after Etienne had left the room, and for the most part it was peaceful, although she kept repeating something...it was a litany of sorts, almost rhythmic in it's recitation. He listened, tried to make out what she was saying, but he only understood the names, and only Etienne, Marie, and Dubois meant anything to him. She grew agitated momentarily, but when Richard tightened his arm around her and murmured that he was here, she calmed and drifted back into her peaceful sleep. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead and whispered 'I love you' against her hair. It wasn't how he envisioned telling her the first time, but she probably hadn't heard him, so maybe...when things were taken care of and Simonne started her own healing, maybe then he could tell her properly. Of course, maybe he couldn't. It was entirely possible that the woman he fell in love with was gone, shattered by the brutality. But he would worry about that when the time came. Emma came in, carrying two bowls of oatmeal.

"We need to get some food into Simonne," Emma stated as she set the bowls on the nightstand. "She hasn't eaten anything in days." Richard nodded and shifted slightly, which was enough to wake Simonne up. She blinked and gingerly sat up, waving off Richard's attempt to help her. She needed to be able to move on her own, and she had to get there quickly. They were going after Louis today, her sweet brother and her noble Phantom. They would get the names of the others, the ones she hadn't known, and they would get rid of Louis, and once he was gone, she could get rid of the others. She knew how she would do it...it would be slow, it would be painful, and she would show them the same amount of mercy they had shown her. Absolutely none.

"Eat, both of you," Emma ordered, handing them each a bowl. Richard dug in immediately, but Simonne just pushed the oatmeal around in the bowl. "Emma will, mm. Stand there. Staring. Until you, mm. Eat," Richard told Simonne. She looked at him, then at Emma, who crossed her arms and put on an expression she had learned from their mother, an expression that said 'we'll do this the easy way or the hard way and I'm sure you won't like the hard way'. It was enough to get Simonne to slowly start eating, a task she found more difficult because of the cast on her arm. But she finally managed to get the whole bowl down, feeling better for the food in her stomach. Emma took the empty bowls and left the room. Simonne took a deep breath and slowly swung her legs off the side of the bed.

"What do you. Mm, think you're doing?"

"I must use ze bathroom," she said, her voice still husky "I need to be moving Once you get ze names I will be ready I have to be ready I have to be ready for when you have ze names because if I am not ready zen I cannot kill zem and if I cannot kill zem zen zey will come back and..."

"SIMONNE! Stop!" Richard cried. "You have. To calm, mm. Down." He found the look in her eyes frightening. It should have been maniacal but it was so blank.

"But I must kill them, she said calmly. "I swore zat I would. He is planning to kill Etienne. Oh, he will make it look like an accident. Or, like Etienne was killed during a robbery or somezing, mais he has to kill Etienne, because Etienne is ze heir right now and he can't get ze company if Etienne is in ze way."

"Simonne,mm...what are. You talking about?" Had her mind completely snapped?

"It is all just part of Pierre Dubois' plan to get control of Papa's company," she said as she slowly stood up. "You see, zey zought I could not hear zem, but I heard every word." She took Richard's hand and led him down the hallway, telling him what she had overheard. She let his hand go outside the bathroom door, which she kept cracked so he could her what she was saying. She took care of what she needed to do in the bathroom, came out, still talking, took Richard's hand and led him back to her bedroom. "And so, you see zis leaves me with the dilemma...do I kill Papa as well, for giving his consent to zis marriage, or do I let him live, since he is nozing but a...a...victim, in zis. What do you think, Richard?" Richard thought she had lost her mind. The strain of what she had endured must have truly snapped it. He completely understood it. But she was so convinced of truth of what she was saying, he didn't know how to tell her she must've misunderstood something. So instead he said "I think. Mm, right now. You need. More rest."

"You zink I am crazy."

"I think you're still. Mm, in shock. Over what happened. And you need..." He paused and very slowly raised his hands to her face. She didn't flinch when he carefully placed his hands on her cheeks, nor did she look away when he met her eye. There was so much going on in there, and none of it was good. He had to be careful, no telling but that one wrong word could jar that fragile grasp on sanity. He quickly changed what he had been about to say. "Mm, you need to know. I will help you, mm. With this, but you'll have to. Listen to me. We will, mm. Plan, and if we have to. Wait for the right. Moment, we'll wait. If we can, mm. Make them suffer. Good, but the ultimate goal is to. Get in. Get them and. Get out. Got it?" She nodded. "I'm here," he said softly. "No matter, mm. what, I'm here. However you need me. Just, mm. Trust me. With this."

"I do," she said, just as softly. He could hear the barest echo of the woman he loved in her voice. "I do not know what I am doing in zis, only zat I must do it. You are ze only one I know who can do zese zings. I will do whatever you tell me, just get me to zem."

"I will," he promised her. He wanted to kiss her, if only to reassure her, but he couldn't. "Now, you mm, need to get some more rest."

"So must you," she said. "You look as if you have not slept much ze past few days."

"Been too. Mm, worried about you," Richard admitted. "We all were." He watched as her eyebrows drew together as much as the swelling on her face would allow, her eyes moved back and forth as she thought about something. Without warning, she grabbed Richard's hand and once more led him down the hall, but this time to the kitchen, where Emma was cleaning up breakfast dishes. Simonne dropped Richard's hand and quickly embraced Emma.

"Zank you for everyzing," Simonne told Emma. "I am so sorry zat your trip to Paris dissolved into needing to take care of me." She pulled out of the embrace and studied Emma's face. "You need to sleep. Zere are bags under your eyes."

"I'll be fine," Emma said. "Now that you're up and about, I don't have to be so worried. Are you still hungry? You probably should eat more."

Simonne was about to say that she wasn't hungry, but a quick glance at Richard had her stilling her tongue and sitting down at the table. In a few minutes, Emma had some eggs and toast in front of her.

"I'd offer you more," Emma said, "but since you haven't really eaten much recently I don't want to make you sick."

Simonne ate slowly, eyes darting from Emma to Richard and then to the doorway. Finally, when she was nearly done eating, she asked "Where is Etienne?"

"He went to the market," Emma said.

"How long has he been gone? Will he be back soon?"

"I guess he's been out about twenty minutes. Why?"

Simonne shook her head. How could she explain the unease she felt knowing that Etienne was not right there? She finished eating, Emma took her plate and washed it. Simonne watched Emma and Richard carefully, eyes following where ever one or the other moved. And when the door opened and Etienne came home, Simonne was on her feet as quickly as she could be. She grabbed Richard's hand and led him down to the living room, where she dropped Richard's hand, threw her arms around Etienne and began thanking him for everything.

He wrapped his arms around her after dropping the bags to the floor and assured her he would do anything he could for her, that it had been no trouble, and he was glad she was up and about.

"_I was so worried for you,"_ he told her. _"I'm so sorry."_

"_It is not your fault Etienne. You couldn't have done anything to prevent it."_

"_No. I should have protested at dinner, or done something to keep Dubois from leaving with you. Something."_

Simonne looked at her brother, so worried for him, knowing that Dubois wanted him dead. _"Etienne,"_ she began, but fell silent when she realized she didn't know how to tell him. _"I love you Etienne." _It was all she could manage to say. Whatever happened, she had to keep Etienne safe.

"_I love you too, Simonne." _He gave one last gentle squeeze, then held her at arms length. "Why are you not resting?" he asked, switching to English

"Pfft, all I have done ze past week is rest! You, however," she looked at Etienne, then turned to Richard, and Emma and held them with her eyes, "have waited and sat and cared for me and have probably not slept more zan two hours at a time. You must all rest. If you do not rest, zen ze zings zats need to be done can not be done and if zey are not done zen nozing can change and if nozing can change zen it will happen again and if it happens again zen I do not zink anyzing can change..." her eyes grew wide as her thoughts began to spiral into a nightmare world where the men who had raped her could find her at whim. Etienne and Emma looked at her with wide eyed concern. Richard, who had seen this earlier, called her name. Her head immediately turned to him, her eyes the same blank they had been earlier.

"Simonne," Richard said evenly. "We will, mm. All rest. But you have. To do the same. Okay?"

Simonne nodded, and when he held his hand out to her, she crossed the floor to take it. "You will rest?" she asked Emma and Etienne in a small voice. They both said they would, and that enabled Richard to lead her to her bedroom. Richard positioned himself on the bed next to Simonne, who snuggled against him as comfortably as she could with her battered body. "Please rest, Richard," she said softly. "You must be at your best when you go for Louis. You must keep Etienne safe. You promised you would."

"I will," he said.

"Take off your mask. I know you do not sleep well with it on." Richard complied, setting it on her nightstand. Simonne noticed the tag was there, and realized she needed to put a ribbon on it so she could wear it. But right now, with Richard beside her, she didn't need it. He would help her do what needed to be done. He would protect her. He would never hurt her. He was the one person she could completely and wholly trust. He had been there with her, in her mind, the light that had kept her from succumbing to the darkness of her assault. While they beat her, Richard had held her. While they raped her, Richard had gently made love to her. While they called her 'bitch' and 'whore', Richard whispered words of love in her ear. For every cruelty they inflicted on her, Richard offered kindness. She loved Etienne, for he was her brother and the one person in her family who loved her. She loved Emma, the sister she had never had but always wanted. But Richard...she loved him more than anyone. His voice could break through the frantic thoughts that swirled through her mind, his presence could keep dark memories at bay.

"Sleep, Simonne," Richard said, on the cusp of slumber himself. "Remember...we rest. Mm, if you rest."

"Oui, Richard." She settled in against him and drifted to sleep. Richard soon followed, exhausted emotionally and physically. He'd caught a few hours sleep here and there over the past week, but not enough. Simonne was right, he had to be at his best tonight.

Richard awoke a few hours later feeling refreshed. Simonne was awake and looking at him. "Feel better?" she asked softly. "Mm, yes," he said.

"You look better," she replied, studying him carefully. "Now you need a shave." Richard ran his hand over his jaw. He hadn't exactly been paying much attention to his appearance the past few days, but he wasn't entirely surprised to discover that his usual light stubble had grown into a bit of a beard. Simonne ran her hand along his jaw almost shyly. Richard watched her carefully, wondering what was going on in her mind at the moment. "What, mm. Are you thinking?" _Please let it be something happy_...he added in his mind.

Simonne knew Richard needed her to laugh so he could laugh but she didn't really want to laugh because nothing seemed funny to her and beside laughing would hurt her ribs but she still wanted him to laugh so she said "Zat you have not been tickled lately." and before Richard knew it her fingers were  
>finding those oh-so-ticklish spots on his ribs and under his arms. He laughed and squirmed and he wondered if maybe Simonne had come out of this just fine after all. But when she finally gave in to his pleas to stop tickling, and he looked into her eyes, he saw no spark of merriment there, despite the smile on her swollen lips.<p>

Richard wanted Simonne back. _His_ Simonne. The Simonne who could chatter non-stop about anything, the woman who could make his heart feel so light when she smiled, the woman who could make him laugh with ridiculous conversations, the woman who had been able to draw him out of himself and make him want to live again. "Why are you sad, Richard?" she asked. He didn't want to tell her he was sad because he feared for her sanity, feared that her laughter was gone, feared that the woman he loved had been taken from him. But despite whatever was or wasn't going on in her head, it was still Simonne and she could still sense what he was thinking. "You are sad because of me."

"I'm sad. Because of what, mm. They did to you. I'm sad. Because it changed you." Simonne cocked her head and looked at him and said "I am sorry. I do not want you to be sad."

"Simonne. There is, mm. No reason for. You to be sorry. None of. This is your, mm. Fault. The ones who need. To be, mm, sorry. Are the ones. Who did this. And when. We're done with them, mm. they will. Be sorry. Yes?"

"Oui," she replied fiercely. There was emotion in her eye, a driving need for vengeance that would have made most men quiver to see. But for Richard, it was a look he understood, one he could relate to. And maybe once they killed the bastards who had raped her, his Simonne would come back to him. He understood she would never be the same, but he hoped some of the laughter would come back. If it didn't he vowed he would travel the pits of Hell and kill the bastards all over again.

"I need you. Mm, to keep Emma distracted. While Etienne and I handle Louis. I would. Prefer, mm, that she not know. Exactly what we're doing." Simonne nodded, understanding. Emma was a lot like Richard had been, way back when...possessing a certain innocence you can only gain growing up away from everyone and everything. Simonne knew some of that innocence had been tarnished this past week...it was Emma who had taken care of her, cleaning her while she was semi-conscious at best, tending her wounds. Simonne could vaguely recall Emma's chatter as she worked, silly little nonsense like the calf that had been born that spring that had a splotch on her shoulder that looked like a cat's head, and how poorly the south field's yield had been. Sedated as she was at the time,Simonne hadn't understood it or been able to respond to it, but she had been comforted by the sound of Emma's voice. Emma was a practical woman, but she was also sweet and kind and therefore needed to be protected. "I will not tell her" Simonne swore. "I do not know how I will distract her, zough."

"Well, mm. What do women. Normally do when they're. Together? Talk about...clothes. Or shopping. Or mm...do your nails. Or have. A, mm, pillow fight. Or something." Richard honestly had no idea what women did when they were together.

"A pillow fight? Can you see me hitting Emma with a pillow?" Richard gave it some thought then said "I'd, mm. Like to see. You try." The corner of his mouth turned up into a small smile, he was trying to encourage Simonne to smile, if not all out laugh, but she looked at him as if he had suggested she dye Emma's hair purple.

"Well, mm. Keep it in mind...if you. Mm, run out of. Things to talk about," he said as the corner of his mouth fell. _It's too soon, I suspect. I have to give her time. Hell's bells, she can barely fully open her eyes, so why am I expecting her to be happy this soon?_

"If you saw me hit Emma with a pillow, would it make you laugh?" she asked, completely serious.

"It would," he admitted. "Until she. Mm, stood up and. Decked me for. Suggesting it to you."

"'Deck you'? What does zis mean?"

"Mm, punch," Richard explained, forgetting momentarily that while Simonne spoke English very well, she wouldn't be completely familiar with American slang.

"She hits you?" Simonne's eyes were wide.

"Mm, playfully, yes," Richard hurried to explain. "She taught me, mm. To cook. I taught her, mm. To throw a punch. It's the, mm. Stupidest thing I've. Ever done," he said with a chuckle. It really was a dumb move on his part. Emma could get away with punching him as hard as she could in the arm, but if he tried to retaliate? His mother left him with a bruised backside the one time he tried. Simonne processed this but had nothing to add. Instead she changed the subject.

"When are you and Etienne going?"

"I'm not, entirely sure. Mm, Etienne was going to. Call Louis and. Arrange to meet. Mm, this evening. We'll go. From there. I need to. Mm, clean up." Which he realized was silly. He was going to get cleaned up to go kill someone.

"Ah, oui," Simonne said. "You must be dressed to kill." Richard laughed, truly laughed, for the first time in days. Simonne felt a little something inside of her turn warm. _Yes, laugh this is good I have to make you laugh if you laugh you are happy and if you are happy then..._

_...maybe I can be happy?_


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thank you, kind reviewers o' mine.

"Oh my, you clean up quite nicely," Etienne told Richard as they stepped out of the apartment. "Not zat you want to hear zis from anozer man, I am guessing."

"Mm, not really," Richard admitted. "No offense." Etienne was a nice guy, and how he lived his life was none of Richard's concern. None the less, Richard was not comfortable with it.

Etienne shrugged it off, and the men headed out. Simonne was the one who got them out of the apartment. She looked at Emma, Etienne and Richard and stated that they had all been cooped up in the apartment long enough, and the three of them needed to get out and get some air. It had appealed to all of them, but Emma saw Simonne's attempt to shoo them out of the apartment as an attempt to be alone so she could kill herself.

"Why don't you boys go out," Emma said reasonably. "Get some air, play in the snow...whatever it is guys do when they're together." Richard and Simonne exchanged a look, didn't they just have a similar conversation? and there was almost a smile on her face. "Simonne and I will stay here and um...do girl stuff."

So Etienne and Richard cleaned up and went out for a 'boys night', leaving Emma and Simonne to spend what would become a night that tested Emma's patience and Simonne's sanity.

Richard and Etienne drove to Louis' office (Richard was impressed at Etienne's ingenuity...he used a long pole to operate the gas pedal, since he didn't have the flexibility in his right foot to finely control the speed) and waited until he came out of the building, locking the door behind him. He spotted Etienne and Richard across the street and hurried over to them. Richard climbed out of the car and held the door open for Louis, who thought they were taking him to a nice 'thanks for all your help' dinner. Louis hopped into the car, and Richard climbed into the back seat behind him. Louis glanced over his shoulder nervously as Etienne pulled away from the curb. Richard looked calm, but he radiated danger.

"Do not mind Richard too much," Etienne told Louis in a jovial tone. "He is very upset about what happened to Simonne. He is in love with her, you see. And so, sitting at her bedside zese past days, seeing her injuries, knowing what was done to her, he has had a great deal of time to build his anger, and I am sure when he gets his hands on ze bastards who did it, it will not be pretty." Etienne looked at Louis with a dazzling smile that did nothing to hide the deadly intent in his eyes. Richard cocked his gun and pressed it to the back of Louis Beaudelaire's head. "Not zat I am feeling more forgiving."

They went an hour out of the city, Etienne turned down a lonely side road that led deeper into a forest the longer they drove. Etienne pulled off on a smaller path and drove until the way was blocked by a fallen tree.

"Mm, get out," Richard told Louis, pulling the gun away from his head. _Let the fucker try to run. I want an excuse to shoot him right now._

Louis slowly climbed out of the car, hands held above his head. He tried to look as meek and pathetic as possible.

It didn't work.

Etienne had brought a walking stick, an incredibly ugly but sturdy cane with a palm size brass knob at the top, and as Louis stepped clear of the car, he swung the stick for all he was worth at Louis' stomach, doubling him over and knocking the breath from him.

"_You piece of shit," _Etienne spat._ "How could you do that to her? That's my sister!"_

"_Etienne, I swear..." _Louis wheezed, but Etienne cut him off by swinging at his knees, knocking him to the ground. Etienne brought the stick up once more, bringing it down over Louis' shoulders

"Calm down, Etienne," Richard said, putting his hand on Etienne's arm as he prepared to swing again. "Remember, mm. We have to get. Some names from him. And, mm...they did. Have Simonne...for over a day."

"Ah, oui. How silly of me to rush zis." Etienne leaned on the walking stick and looked at Louis. "I am honestly not sure which appalls me more, Louis. Ze fact zat you would participate in ze brutal gang rape of my sister, or ze fact zat, when I called you to take care of her, you came right over. You came into my apartment, tended to Simonne, acted concerned...knowing full well what was done to her. How much of it were you responsible for, eh? How many of zose bruises and bite marks are from you?"

"I didn't...I only..."

"I, mm. Don't care," Richard said, pressing the muzzle of his Colt against Louis' temple. "I want, mm. To know who was. There, and where they, mm. Can be found." He cocked the hammer. Louis looked from the cold, blank face of Richard then to Etienne, who's normally kind face was stiff with rage.

"Etienne, please.. do not do zis."

Richard hit Louis in the jaw with the side of his fist, the weight of the gun in his hand lending more force.

"Who else was zere, Louis? You, Dubois, et...?" He pull the end of the walking stick under Louis' chin and made his former friend look up at him. "Tell me, Louis, and perhaps it will be done quickly." When Louis hesitated, Richard lowered his aim and fired, putting a bullet into Louis' thigh. Louis cried in pain, fell onto his side with his hands applying pressure to the wound. Etienne grabbed the front of Louis shirt and hauled him upright. Richard pulled his mask off, setting it on the roof of the car where it would be out of the way, and put his face very close to Louis'. He knew the ruined side of his face was a fright, and for the first time ever he used it to his advantage.

All Louis saw was Death, staring at his from an empty eye socket. For as frightening as the ruined side of Richard's face was, the anger and murderous intent in his eye was so much worse. "Tell me who, mm. Else was there."

"And if I do not?" Richard straightened and pulled his knife from it's sheath at his waist. He held the knife in front of Louis eyes as he moved behind him and grabbed his hair, pulling his head up.

"I can say nozing if you slit my throat."

"Mm, I know," Richard said bring the knife to Louis hairline. "You're the, mm. Doctor...tell me...how long can, mm you survive. Without a scalp?" He slowly started slicing, the finely honed blade cutting through flesh with ease. Louis' scream echoed through the trees, causing birds to take flight. Richard cut just enough to make his point. Etienne stood in front of Louis, hands resting on the knob of his walking stick. "Now, Louis who was zere with you et Dubois?" When Louis still hesitated, Richard applied pressure to the knife. "Stephan Marchant, Pierre Lafleur, et Francois Duchamp!"

"I know Marchant et Duchamp," Etienne told Richard. "But I do not know zis Lafleur. Where do I find him?" he asked Louis.

"Je ne sais pas! I swear I do not know. It was ze first time I had met him. He works with Dubois, zat is all I know."

"I want to believe you, Louis," Etienne said, his voice tinged with sadness. "But I believed zat you were my friend...I trusted you to look after Simonne while I was in ze army, and now look what you've done to her. How could you do zat to her?" Louis looked up at Etienne through the blood that streamed into his eyes. He knew he was going to die, there in those woods.

"I have been in love your sister since she was fourteen," he spat. "All zese years I watched her, growing up, growing more beautiful...I asked her out, right after you left for ze front. Do you know what  
>she did? She laughed! Laughed and kissed me on ze cheek and told me I was sweet but like a brother to her. All I wanted was for her to look at me like I was a man. I would have given her anyzing she wanted...clothes, jewelry, trips around ze world..."<p>

Etienne shook his head. "You do not know Simonne if you zink she wants zose zings. All she wants is someone kind, someone she can talk to, someone who appreciates who she is. Zings are not important to her. People are." Etienne took hold of his stick once more, looking at the brass knob as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. "And as you know, Simonne is very important to me." Without another word, Etienne swung the stick, the knob connecting with Louis' ribs with a sickening thud. Etienne and Richard took out some of the worry and anger that had been seething inside of them since Christmas Eve. Etienne laid into the man he'd once called a friend with all the strength he  
>possessed, the brass knob of his walking stick easily breaking bones. Richard kicked and punched, and at one point said to the barely conscious Louis "Simonne. Mm sends her regards," as he planted a kick flush in Louis crotch.<p>

"My sister, she did always have a way with words," Etienne said as he brought the walking stick down onto Louis' temple. With that, it was over.

"Shit," Richard muttered. "You weren't. Mm, supposed to. Do that."

"What? Kill him? Is zat not why we were here?"

"Yes. Mm, but Simonne made me. Promise, that I would. Kill him, not you."

"Why?"

"Because, mm. She thinks. You're too. Gentle." Etienne arched an eyebrow at Richard. "That's exactly. Mm, what she. Said. You're too. Mm, gentle. Maybe it was because. Mm, Louis was. Your friend"

"Obviously, I need to pick better friends," Etienne said. He looked at the bloody pulp that had once been Dr. Louis Beaudelaire, then he looked at Richard. "You love Simonne, oui?" Richard nodded. "You must take her away. Leave tomorrow, take her to America with you. Keep her safe, and love her with everyzing you are...why are you shaking your head non?" 

"We're not, mm. Leaving. Until this. Is over."

"Non, you must go quickly. I will take care of ze ozers."

"Mm, no, you won't," Richard said. "Simonne...is going to."

"Ze hell she is! She can not even shoot a gun!"

"No. Mm, but I can. She asked for. My help. I, said mm, I would."

"You can not do zat! Do you know how dangerous it would be for her?"

"She will do it, mm. Whether I help her. Or not. Mm, at least. With me there. She'll stand a chance of, mm. Surviving it." Richard shook his head and reached for his mask. "She needs to. Do this, Etienne. Mm, I think. Her sanity depends. On it." He carefully put his mask on, then turned back to Etienne. "She said she vowed, mm. To kill them while. They were raping her. Mm, I think it's. Something she clung to. To keep part of herself...focused away. Mm, from what was happening. And I think. Until she. Fulfills that vow, she's never. Mm, going to heal."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: No brutal deaths here, but I will tell you, Simonne is probably going to regain her full sanity sooner than I planned because it is driving me nuts not punctuating her off-the-deep-end ramblings. :'p**

It started off fine for Emma and Simonne. Emma offered to brush Simonne's hair, and while she did so, Simonne asked her what the farm was like in the winter. Emma described it as best she could, and found herself a little homesick. To keep Simonne from picking up on it, Emma quickly changed the subject.

"Tell me about Etienne. What was he like growing up?"

"Etienne was a horrible brother when we were very young. He would put paint in my hair, or make a mess and put ze blame on me, stupid brother zings, tu sais? But, one day when I was five, Marie locked me out of ze house. She was having people over, I zink, and did not want me getting in ze way. Anyway, it was summer, so I did not mind being outside. But a storm came, and it was terrible. Ze zunder was so loud, and one of ze trees was hit by lightning. I remember a very large branch coming down not far from where I was standing. I went to ze front door and pounded on it and screamed, and only Etienne heard or cared. He opened ze door, took one look at me, bundled me inside, and ever since zat day, he has been ze most wonderful brother I could ask for. He's always been zere for me, eizer giving me encouragement when I zought I was not good enough at ballet, or helping me with my studies, or even giving me advice on boys." She felt Emma stiffen behind her slightly and turned to look over her shoulder. "Oui, it is strange, mais, I zink ze advice he gave me was quite good, better zan if it came from a woman, because Etienne, he does zink like a man, in most ways. And who better to give advice on what a man likes zan a man?"

Emma plastered what she hoped was a cheerful grin on her face. She was slightly uncomfortable to be reminded of Etienne's preference, he seemed so normal, otherwise. But she was more offset by Simonne. The conversation sounded like Simonne, but her eyes had none of the brightness they had before. It reminded her somewhat of Richard, when he'd first come home, but with Simonne, it was like she was trying to be who she was before the rape. Emma wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Etienne takes care of me," Simonne went on. "He always looks out for me, usually getting between Marie et moi when she is after me about somezing. He is always zere for me if I need to talk, or just be near someone. He makes sure I eat, because I am ze most inept person in ze kitchen. He was ze one who came to see me dance, or take me to dinner on special occasions, held me when I needed to cry, yelled at me if I was being stupid. He had always been zere for me. He has always loved me."

And knowing what she knew of Simonne's family, Emma knew that last sentence was the key sentence.

"It's easy to see," Emma said, running the brush through Simonne's hair, "that Etienne is a wonderful man. He was worried sick while you were missing."

"He should not have been too worried. Dubois can not kill me, not yet."

"Um...what?"

"Oh, oui, it was Richard I told zis to. He zinks I am crazy because I told him, but Dubois wants Papa's company, but Etienne is ze heir right now, so Dubois will have to kill Etienne. I hope Richard is keeping Etienne safe because Dubois will try to kill Etienne someway but I do not know how and with Etienne out of the way zen Dubois needs me to be pregnant and zen he can get control of Papa's company, holding it until his son can take control of it and zen he will get rid of me and he will probably kill Papa as well alzough Marie might do zat because she is actually Dubois sister alzough not many people know zis because zey have kept it hidden for many years because zey have been working to get control of various companies in France zere is anozer sister named Eveline who was married to ze man who ran ze largest steel manufacturer in France but he mysteriously died some years back leaving ze company to his young son, who was only two at ze time I zink but who do you zink is really running ze company none ozer zan Pierre Dubois I zink he is trying to gain complete control of all ze companies involved in transport across France because zen he will get some of everzing zat comes into or leaves ze country and because Papa's company controls ze railroads it makes sense for Dubois to try and get control but zat must not happen because zat means Etienne will have to die and I can not let Etienne die I should have made sure Etienne was safe on ze tower with me because my noble Phantom could keep him safe but I did not bring Etienne to ze tower I should have brought you too but I did not zink you would be in danger but you could be in danger because you are here and if zey come for Etienne you might get hurt and I would hate for you to be hurt because you are such a wonderful woman who has been so kind to me and I love you like you were my own sister and if something happened to you Richard would be very unhappy and if he is unhappy then I am doing somezing wrong because I am supposed to make him laugh because he does not laugh enough and if he does not laugh then he gets sad and if he gets sad it is a bad zing because zat means he is not happy and all I want is for him to be happy he has to be happy he deserves to be happy all I have to do is make him laugh and he will be happy and if he is happy zen maybe he will love me and maybe I can be happy but I do not zink I can be happy if he is not happy and so to make him happy I must make him laugh but I zink I need to laugh because he said if I can not laugh zen how can he laugh but I do not want to laugh I do not zink zere is much funny right now but I have to laugh because it makes Richard laugh tickling him makes him laugh and I know he does not really like to be tickled but when I tickle him it is as if everyzing he had gone zrough zese past few years goes away and he looks so happy and young and whole and I love when he looks like zat because it is who he is even if no one really gets to see it but you see it when he really laughs because he really loves life and he should laugh more because it makes him happy I have to make sure he is happy I have to make him laugh because when he laughs he is happy..."

Emma gaped in shock as Simonne seemed to rapid-fire the thoughts chasing around her head. It was the same frantic babbling she'd done earlier, when she was trying to get every one to rest, and it sounded like she couldn't get the thoughts to form a line, they just kept circling back to the same thing. She went from the need to make Richard laugh back to the threat to Etienne's life, back to how she should have brought Emma and Etienne to the tower so her noble phantom could keep them safe, too (Emma had no idea what that was all about...what tower? What phantom?) and over and over.

"Simonne," Emma said, trying to match the tone Richard had used earlier to draw her out, but it didn't work for Emma. "SIMONNE!" Still nothing. Simonne's eyes were wide and blank, looking as if Simonne was staring at something far away that only she could make sense of. Simonne held the dog tag in her hand, she had put a new ribbon through it while Richard had been getting dressed to kill. She felt panic start to rise...Richard and Etienne needed to come back, right now. If she couldn't see them, she could not keep them safe, nor could she make them happy.

"They must come back if they do not come back how can I keep them safe how can I make them happy I should never have left the tower Etienne should be on the tower where he would be safe because nozing can hurt me on ze tower because my Phantom is zere and he will keep me safe he will keep Etienne safe will he not I can not let anything happen to Etienne but what if something happens to Richard who will keep me safe then I shouldn't have let them leave we could have gotten ze names anozer way zey shouldn't have left what if somzing happens to zem if somezing happens to zem I do not know who will keep me safe nozing can happen to zem because zey are on ze tower I should have kept Etienne on ze tower with me zen nozing could happen to him..."

Emma tried once again to get Simonne's attention, but if Simonne heard her she didn't respond. She kept repeating her circling thoughts about how Dubois would kill Etienne but if Etienne was on the tower the phantom would keep him safe... Emma didn't understand any of it. She figured it was the strain of what she'd gone through manifesting itself in a confused jumble of ramblings. She pulled Simonne into an embrace, knowing no other way to comfort her, and although Simonne curled up against Emma, she continued to speak in circles, clutching the dog tag tightly in her hand. After forty-five minutes Emma had to pull herself away from Simonne and leave the room. She didn't think Simonne noticed. Emma went to the bathroom, which was blissfully silent. She closed the lid and sat on the toilet, trying to calm her nerves. She had come very close to slapping Simonne, hoping the shock of it would snap her out of it, but one look at the still bruised face held her hand. She was afraid it would make things worse, reminding Simonne of the way she had been assaulted. So that's why Emma left the room. She stayed in the bathroom for almost fifteen minutes, then remembered why she hadn't gone with Richard and Etienne...fear that as soon as she was alone, Simonne would kill herself. Emma hurried out of the bathroom and back to the living room, her heart in her throat when she saw that Simonne was not on the couch. "Simonne?" Emma called, glancing around the living room. No sign of Simonne there had Emma looking in the dining room and kitchen, then the bedrooms. She found Simonne huddled in a corner of her bedroom, still talking in circles, now completely in French. She still clutched the dog tag, and Emma saw that she had also wrapped herself in one of Richard's shirts.

"Simonne, sweetie," Emma said gently, kneeling in front of Simonne. "Sweetie...hey, are you okay?" But Simonne ignored her. She continued to to stare at nothing, clutched Richard's dog tag, huddled into his shirt, and so another hour passed.

Three hours after Richard and Etienne left Emma tried to get Simonne to drink some water laced with the sedative. She didn't drink it. Emma was tempted to drink it herself but still expected Simonne to commit suicide at the first opportunity so refrained. She did however decide to take a small sip of Etienne's whiskey, just to take the edge off. So she walked into the living room, mildly surprised that Simonne followed after her, still mumbling. Her still husky voice was growing raspy and more whispery as she spoke in the way a voice will when used for a long time without interruption. Emma poured two fingers worth of whiskey into a glass and knocked it back quickly, shuddering as it burned down her throat. "Okay, better," she said to herself before turning to face Simonne. What was she going to do with her? That ceaseless monologue was getting on her last nerve.

She knew she should feel more compassion for Simonne, try to be understanding of the fact that she obviously wasn't in her right mind but three hours of this had done a number on Emma and she wasn't sure if she could handle much more if it. She gently put her hands on Simonne's shoulders and said "Sweetie, you've got to stop this. You're worrying me. I don't like seeing you like this." She felt tears stinging her eyes, tried to blink them away. Simonne saw, and it seemed to get through to her. Her ramblings slowed, then stopped all together. She blinked at Emma as if she just realized the other woman was there.

"I am making you sad," she said in a whisper. Emma nodded slightly, glad she had finally gotten Simonne to say something else.

"I'm just worried," Emma said. "Here, come sit down on the couch. Let me get you something to drink, your throat must be very dry." Simonne nodded, and Emma grabbed the sedative laced water and handed it to Simonne. She drank it and set the glass down. "Here," Emma said, putting her arm around Simonne's shoulders and pulling her back. Simonne settled into the embrace, and when she had gotten comfortable, Emma said "Let me tell you what Richard was like when we were young..."

When Richard and Etienne finally returned home, it was to find Simonne and Emma asleep on the couch. The men couldn't help but smile at the picture as they leaned against each other, slightly drunk. After leaving Louis' body there in the woods, Etienne mentioned that it would make sense for them to stop for a drink or two, since they were supposed to be doing 'whatever it is guys do'. So they stopped at a tavern Etienne knew well, and they had a drink. And another, and then just one more. Just enough to make Emma believe they'd done nothing more than just hang out being men.

"Zat's a lovely scene," Etienne said. "Zey look so young and peaceful. Zat is why we fought, eh?" He sighed softly, then said "I will get my sister to her bed if you want you get your sister to mine." Etienne scooped Simonne up and carried her to her bedroom. The motion was just enough to wake Emma up. She blinked and looked around for a moment.

"Hey," she said, sitting up and working a kink out of her neck. "What time is it."

"Almost, mm, ten, I think," Richard said as he sat down next to his sister.

"Where's Simonne?"

"Etienne is, mm. Putting her to bed. She was. Sound asleep, curled. Mm, up against you."

Emma rubbed at her eyes and gave her brother a serious look.

"Richard, something is not right with her," she said. "I know, she went through something very traumatic, and I'm not blaming her if she's lost her mind but...I spent three hours listening to her go through the same circular thought pattern." And Emma repeated it, nearly word for word. When she was done, Etienne, who had come back from tucking Simonne in, said "Zat makes no sense. Ze Phantom, he goes in ze opera, not ze tower. Simonne knows zis..."

"No, it...mm, might. Make sense. If you, mm. Know that some of. Simonne's ballerina friends. Mm, called me... 'The Phantom' the. First time, they, mm. Saw me. And if. You know we. Shared our, mm, first kiss. On the Eiffel Tower."

"Alright, zat I suppose makes sense. But none of ze rest does. Dubois does not need to kill me to get ze company. Papa took me out of his will when I told him I was..." He didn't actually the word out of respect for the Harrows.

"Does Simonne, mm, know this?"

"Probably not. She never cared about ze company, not zat she was ever told anyzing about it anyway, and I never zought to tell her."

"More importantly," Emma said, "does Dubois know this?"

"You can't, mm. Honestly think. That, mm...there's really. Some plot..."

Emma looked at her twin with raised eyebrows, silencing him.

"What?" she said. "You think that someone who would stoop to brutally raping a woman wouldn't go so far as to kill someone?"

"No, but. Mm,...what I think happened was. Simonne was mm, probably. Barely conscious, and in shock. Mm and she heard something. But didn't hear it quite right, mm and given. What she had gone through her mind. Twisted it and expanded it. Mm, maybe she wanted some...better explanation. For why they had. Done, mm. What they had done to her. Part of some great. Scheme of deception and. murder is better than just because. They could, mm isn't it?"

Simonne stood in the shadows of the hallway leading into the living room. They didn't know she was there. She had crept out of her room, needing to make sure they were all there, that they were all safe. But when she heard them talking about her, she stopped. She listened, and when she heard what they thought of her, she crept back down the hallway to her room, silently shut the door, and climbed back into her bed. There, she clutched a pillow, and for the first time since she'd been home, she cried. But she didn't cry for what had been done to her...no, she had done that crying when it was happening. This, she cried because Richard, the one person she had been certain would understand, the one person she had been certain would believe her, thought she was crazy. He thought she needed some justification for why she was raped and abused so badly. She didn't. She fully understood that some men were brutish pigs. After all, how had she met Richard? He came to her rescue when some man was being too forward. And the second time he rescued her? From two men in an alley who were trying to rape her. So, no...Simonne did not need justification for why.

But to know that the man she loved, the man she had clung to in her mind to keep herself from becoming completely lost, to know that he thought she was crazy was more than she could bear.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Short little filler fluff. **

In the morning, Simonne woke up to find Richard sleeping next to her. She looked at him for a moment wondering why he had come in, then thought it didn't matter. She stood and walked to the floor length mirror near her closet. Standing in front of it, she slowly disrobed, starting with Richard's shirt, then her nightgown, then her panties. Naked, she stood and examined her body, front and back. Most of the bruises were fading if not completely gone. The bite marks were a memory for the most part, as were the strangulation marks on her neck. Her lips were still a little swollen and split, and while she had two fading black eyes, she was at least able to open them fully. Some of the burns on her chest still looked fresh, although all things considered they didn't hurt too badly. The worst was the one in the center of her chest, and she examined it closely. It had blistered up, looking shiny and silvery. She gently poked at it, which she knew better than to do but still. All in all, she thought she was healing fairly well.

She slowly stretched, working into the same stretching routine she had gone through every morning since she was six. She went slow, she hadn't done this in a week so she didn't want to risk straining something. She was also reminded when she moved certain ways that some of those bruises were very deep. But it gave her a good assessment of what shape her body was in. And it also helped to clear her mind a bit, the flow of the routine the first truly normal thing she'd done since the attack. She closed her eyes and let her body follow the long practiced pattern. When she was finished, she kept her eyes closed and took three deep breaths. When she opened her eyes, she noticed Richard was awake and had been watching her. She slowly turned around and met his eye.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I, mm. Shouldn't have been staring. But you're. Mm, so beautiful when. You move like that." That look of shy, honest wonder was on his face, that look that had always made her heart flutter. She knew this was where she would normally make some witty suggestive comment as she walked as seductively as possible towards him. But for the life of her she could think of nothing to say, could not work up the nerve to approach him. She lowered her eyes, and held her arms in front of her body trying to cover her nakedness.

"Hey," Richard said as he sat up. "I'm, mm. The shy one. Remember?" He saw the tiniest smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was fleeting and gone in the blink of an eye. "And, mm. This had better not be. Embarrassment about your, mm, injuries. Not in front. Of me."

"No, Richard," she said, snagging the collar of his shirt with her toes and lifting it up off the floor with her foot. "It is not zat. Alzough I do not feel entirely comfortable being naked in front of you. Not right now." She slipped the shirt on and buttoned it. She looked everywhere but at Richard, unsure for once what to say to him.

He watched her, wishing he could understand what she was thinking.

"We. Got the, mm. Other names," he said. She finally looked at him, and he saw her eyes quicken with interest.

"Oui?" she breathed, moving to sit beside him on the bed. "Louis is dead? You killed him?"

"He's dead, yes."

"_You _killed him?" It was now Richard's turn to to look anywhere but at her, because he had made her a promise that he hadn't been able to keep, and he felt terrible for it. He also wasn't sure how she was going to react.

"I am guessing by your silence zat you did not kill him, like you promised you would."

"I, mm. Was planning on it," Richard admitted. "But Etienne, mm. Hit Louis, here," he pointed to his temple "and his. Mm, skull just... caved in. Etienne was, mm. As surprised as. I was."

"Poor Etienne. I did not want him to have to do somezing so brutal. He is so kind and gentle."

_So am I, _Richard thought. _You knew this, once. But now you see me as the only thing that can keep you safe while getting you what you want. _That realization cut Richard to the core. Not once, since she had come to, had Simonne referred to him as _'mon chér', _only Richard. And while he still got a flutter from the way she pronounced his name, he missed her little term of endearment for him. Was there no affection for him in her?

"Etienne would, mm. Do whatever. He had to. To keep, mm. You safe. Don't under-estimate. Him," Richard said, trying to pull his thoughts from their melancholy turn.

Simonne said nothing, only looked down at her hands. Richard ran his hand through his hair, unsure of what to do or say. It was Simonne who finally broke the silence, when she found the words she needed to say to him.

"I know zat I am not completely...right in my head," she said evenly, although she did not raise her eyes to look at him. "I know zere have been times where I talk in circles, because ze zoughts in my head, zey will not...zey will not be in a line. Zey go around and around in my head, and I can not get zem to stop. And I discovered last night, when I do not know where you are, I panic. It is...I feel as if I am more exposed zan I have ever been. I tried very hard to not let it overwhelm me, mais..." She shrugged, it didn't matter right now, and it wasn't even her point. "Richard...I know what I heard. I know you zink I need some reason for why I was raped. But I do not." She paused and looked at him, her eyes begging. "You said you were here, however I needed you. I need you to believe me, Richard. I need you to believe I am not crazy in zis. Please?" She held his eye, silently pleading with him to believe her.

"I don't, mm. Think you're crazy," he said. "I think. Mm,..." but when he saw her the hurt start to form in her eyes, he didn't say he thought she had misunderstood something, like he had been planning, instead he said "I'm sorry. Mm, it's not fair. For me to. Mm, assume you. Didn't know what was. Happening around. You. I guess if. Anyone can...keep, mm. Some sort of clear. Thinking through what you. Mm, went through. It would be you."

"Zen why do you not believe me?"

"Mm, because I don't... Want to. I don't want to think that. Mm, you could get pulled. Into something. Like this. You are. The...purest. Thing, mm in my life. You're what I picture, mm. When things are. Mm, darkest. When I feel like. I'm lost. When there's no one. To talk to. Mm, and I feel so. Alone. You're, mm...the brightness and. The laughter, I need. You're beyond my world, with it's. Murders and double-crossing. Plots and, mm. Schemes." He paused to wet his dry mouth. "When I. Think of you, mm. I think...someday, mm. I'll be able to. Get out of...what I've gotten. Mm, myself into. I'll be. Able to leave. My world for yours and, mm. I'll finally be able. To live some. Sort of normal life. But if. You become, mm. A pawn in some man's. Grab for power, you're. Mm, getting pulled into my world, mm. I don't want. That for you." How could he explain his fear that, if she got pulled into his world, neither of them would ever make it out?

"It should not be your world, or my world," she said, her eyes softening, looking more like herself. She reached her hand up and ran her thumb along his jaw, feeling the scritch of his stubble. "It would be our world. Some place where zere are no scars, no traumas, no sad stories." She placed her palm on his cheek, her thumb tracing the scar that pulled his nostril up before it ran across his cheek. "Someplace where we are happy, where we laugh, where we..." As she trailed off, Richard saw it, there in her eyes. That mischievous spark that usually preceded a ridiculous conversation and him getting tickled.

"What are you, mm. Thinking?" he asked, hoping to encourage it.

She smiled, although she looked oddly embarrassed for doing so. "I do not zink I should tell you," she said. "It is a very...weird zought."

"Mm, how weird?"

"Very. I feel bad for having had it. You would not like to hear it."

"Try me," he said, smiling. He hoped this played out. They both needed the laugh, her more so than he.

"Non," she said, her lips still quirked in that guilty smile. "I can not."

"Tell me, or mm. I'll tickle you." Her eyes lit up, even as she shook her head no. Richard tickled her neck, then carefully her ribs, taking delight in the sound of her laughter. He didn't tickle her long, just long enough to leave her breathless with laughter. When he stopped she lay on her back, cheeks flushed, a smile crossing her face. When he looked into her eyes, he could still see that mischievous look. Whether it was truly back for good, or it was a just a teasing glimpse, Richard didn't know. But at least it was there, and he was able to draw it out.

"Now, will you. mm. Tell me what you're thinking?" She looked down for a moment, blushing and smiling, and then, shaking her head she told him.

"That's disturbing, mm," Richard said, feeling his spine shiver but laughing none the less. "I'd rather not, mm. Find out if. It is or not."

"Do not worry," she said, still smiling at him. "I will not try it."

This was how she should feel, she knew. When she felt like this, Richard laughed. When Richard laughed, she felt good. She...

...closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind before her thoughts could begin running around on her again. She felt Richard's hand twine through hers, offering his support. She managed to get her thoughts under control and slowly opened her eyes, finding Richard looking down on her with concern.

"Mm. Are you okay?" he asked quietly, gently squeezing her hand.

"Oui," she said quietly. "I almost lost my zoughts. I wanted to contain zem before I began talking a lot."

"Because you, mm. Never talk a lot."

"Moi? Never," she said, smiling.

_Maybe I can laugh, after all, _she thought, watching a little of the worry ease from Richard's face. _For Richard, I __**will**__ laugh..._


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Kind of long for one chapter but too short when split in two. 'Awwwww' at the top, a bit of 'Oh!' at the bottom. Thank you for the reviews. **

From that point, a morning routine developed. Simonne would wake up and go through her stretches. Richard would wake up and watch her. He was fascinated by the grace and beauty of her movements. But he also felt guilty because as he watched her, he couldn't help but grow aroused. He didn't want her to know...he felt it was too soon after her attack for him to feel that way about her. He didn't want her to think he was like the men who had attacked her. He didn't want her to think he only wanted her physically. So he would will away his desire and show her nothing but gentle fondness. Maybe if she had given some indication that she cared for him...but they were both in the mindset that her rape affected how the other looked at them. He couldn't imagine that she could bear to be intimate with anyone after what she went through. She thought he couldn't look at her as anything but the bruised, abused woman he had sat beside for days. They had told her Richard would never be able to look at her the same. She thought they were just trying to demoralize her. Like the dog tag, they could use her love for Richard as a weapon. She hadn't wanted to believe them, but Richard rarely touched her unless he was trying to draw her back to herself (she tried to contain her circular ramblings but sometimes they still slipped out. Richard was the only one who could easily calm her) and while he didn't seem to mind sleeping in the same bed with her, allowing her to snuggle against him, he seemed stiff and uncomfortable, and she started to wonder if it was something he put up with only for her sake. She didn't realize that Richard felt like he was being tortured holding her in his arms each night. The way she tucked up against him, fitting her body to his, throwing her arm and usually a leg across his body, the way she would squirm to get comfortable...it was the furthest thing from a sexual move she could make, but still he reacted. And he felt guilty for it, for wanting her even though she'd been so abused. And so he stayed silent, tried to be what he thought she needed him to be, which he reasoned would have been easier if he'd been a eunuch, never realizing he was affecting Simonne. The fact that Simonne had resolved to act like her normal self didn't help. She made jokes and ridiculous conversations, smiled and made sure Etienne, Emma and Richard were as happy as possible. Sometimes she really felt like her old self...sometimes she had to fake it. But it seemed they believed she was recovering. And so she kept it up. Emma no longer feared Simonne would kill herself the first moment she was alone, and although Simonne still found herself feeling lost if Richard wasn't near by, she did her best to contain the panic attacks that threatened if he was out of sight for longer than fifteen minutes.

In truth, the happiest moments for Simonne those first weeks of 1922 were when she and Richard were out in the woods when he was teaching her to shoot. It focused her mind on something other than the confusing mess her life had become. And those first couple of times, when Richard stood behind her adjusting her stance or the way she held her arm reminded her of all the happy times she had spent in his arms. But more than that, she enjoyed seeing Richard in his element. He knew guns, and by the time he was done, so did Simonne. It took her a little while to get the aim down, which Richard assured her was normal . When she pointed out that she had seen him pulled his gun out and kill two men in the blink of an eye as if it was the most natural thing to him, and wondered if she would ever get to that point, he looked at her sadly and said 'I mm hope you never have to. ' He understood what drove Simonne, and he agreed to help her mostly to try and keep her safe. But that didn't mean he liked it. He did like the way she looked when he was explaining things, and he especially liked the way her tongue poked from the corner of her mouth as she sighted down the barrel, even though as he pointed out it was hard to take an assassin seriously if she was making a cute face. He was leaning against a tree when he said this, off to the side and slightly behind her. She un-cocked the gun and held it away and down at her side, just like he taught her, then looked over her shoulder at him. The look in her eyes was that merry mischief look that made his knees weak and his pulse race. That look was the Simonne he loved. It made his heart pound against his ribs, almost as if it was trying to break free to lay itself at her feet. _My heart is yours Simonne. I just need to know if you want it. _

She turned and walked towards him, tucking the gun into her coat pocket, the lovely, wicked little grin on her face, her eyes dancing with laughter. Richard found it very hard to swallow all of a sudden.

"Cute, am I?" she asked, standing very near to him. Richard smiled and nodded.

"Mm, yes. Especially when you've. Got that, mm. Adorable shooter face." He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but he refrained. He was afraid of scaring her, of giving her the wrong impression. He was afraid of how he felt towards her right now. He shouldn't want her this much. It wasn't just his libido, it was his entire being. He couldn't completely explain it, this overwhelming need for this beautiful woman. She leaned in closer, and he could faintly smell her perfume, a light rose scent. He inhaled deeply to capture it, his entire body tensing . Simonne noticed, took a step back from him, hurt and confusion in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, mm." Richard spoke softly, but earnestly. "I just...am uncomfortable with, mm. My reaction to you. Right now."...by which he really meant _I'm sorry, I feel like an ass right now because I'm physically attracted to you and out of respect for what you've just gone through I'd rather you not know this._

But which Simonne heard as _I'm sorry, I'm just so off-put by the fact that you were brutally raped and beaten that I can't bear to be around you right now._

Simonne simply nodded and turned away, walking back to her previous spot and resuming target practice. Richard watched her take and miss three shots before he said "You're, mm. Angry."

Simonne said nothing, only fired off another shot which she ended up missing, which frustrated her further and made her miss her next shot as well. She growled in frustration and aimed once more. Richard finally said something

"What was the. Mm first thing I. Mm...told you about. Shooting."

"Do not aim at anyone I am not willing to shoot."

"Mm. was. The first...mm. At some point, mm. Didn't I say. That it was best to. Mm, keep emotion out. Of it?"

She turned to face him. "Oui, mais...do you really zink zat will be possible? I am not going after a man who embarrassed a friend, or who reneged on a contract. I am going to kill ze men who raped me. You saw what I looked like, et puet-etre Louis told you some of it, mais you do not know ze full extent of it, Richard. Zey wanted to break me...ruin me. It seems zey succeeded. Ze one zing I clung to..." She shook her head and turned away, tears welling in her eyes. "Zey were right...zey knew. I did not want to believe zem. I zought it was just somezing zey were saying to hurt me. It hurt to hear zem say it, mais... to know it is true? It hurts more zan anyzing zey did to my body."

Richard blinked and stayed silent a moment, wondering why they would have said anything about him feeling guilty for wanting her, and why did knowing it was true hurt her so much? If anything he would think she'd be, not grateful but relieved maybe. Unless... "Simonne? Mm are we. Talking about the...mm, same thing?"

"It started as a discussion about how you are repulsed by me, zen went into a discussion about how it will be impossible to keep emotion from my shooting. I believe we are talking about ze same zing."

"Repulsed by you? Mm, God, no! Simonne, you are, mm. So beautiful. And every time. You're near me... Mm I feel... I don't know how to. Describe it. It's this. Wonderful, mm. Joyous feeling. You help me. Remember who. Mm I am. When I feel myself...slipping away, mm. I think of you." He looked down for a moment to gather his thoughts. This wasn't about him, although he did want her to know how she made him feel. "Simonne, why. Mm do you think. You repulse. Me?"

"You do not zink I notice zat every night I feel like I am sleeping with a plank of wood whenever I curl against you? Or zat ze only time you touch me is if you are trying to calm me down? I zought...I zought..." _I thought you said you loved me, once...while you were at my side. But that must've been a dream. I guess it was too good to be true._ She wanted to cry but refused to give in to tears. But her voice was still thick with it as she said "If it is somezing you are doing out of pity, stop it. I do not want to be felt sorry for. If it is so unbearable for you to be near me, you are more zan welcome to be elsewhere."

"You do not. Mm, repulse me. Believe me in that. Mm I can't look at you and. Mm not want you. I feel horrible. Because, mm of it. Everything about you. Is, mm wonderful. But I don't know...mm, what to do. Or say. Mm,...I'm so afraid. Of scaring you. Or hurting you. Or...reminding you of. What happened." He shrugged helplessly, trying to convey his confusion. "I don't mm. Want you to think I..." When he needed them most words failed him. He slowly approached her, seeing the pain and confusion in her eyes, and when he was but a hand span away, he slowly sank to his knees before her. He didn't care that the snow was melting through his pants. He only cared about Simonne, about trying to make her understand. So, kneeling before her, looking into her eyes, he said "Mm, please, listen to me. I, mm. Love you. So much Simonne. I don't know if. You, mm, feel anything...for me. Anymore, mm. But I do. Love you. Mm, I...thought you, mm. Wouldn't want me to. Touch you because it. Would remind you of what. Mm, happened. I've been. Mm, like a 'plank of. Wood' as you put it. Mm, because I've been trying to not. Mm...grow aroused by you when you're. Mm, not doing anything sexual. I don't, mm. Want you thinking that I...mm, not so soon after...mm, I couldn't...you know. Mm I would never..." He paused, took a breath, started over. "Mm, everything about you. Amazes me. You..., mm. Are the most. Wonderful person I've. Ever known. Mm, I love you. And I sill wait for you, however long, mm. I have to. Even if it, mm. Means waiting. Forever."

Simonne placed her hands on his face and looked down at him. There were tears in her eyes, but there was also that light that was so much of who she was. He gazed up at her, his stomach tying itself into knots as he waited for her to respond. She said nothing, only gazed back at him. Around them, the gentle sounds of the woods in winter provided the only noise. He wondered if maybe, he shouldn't have told her he loved her. Maybe it just added more stress to her confusion. Maybe he had just made things worse. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. Doubt began to well inside of him, along with fear that he had just made Simonne's situation . It had been selfish on his part to tell her he loved her, hadn't it? Instead of trying to comfort her, he had to declare himself, like his love could possibly make anything better. Why did he even bother?

"You are getting all 'woe is me'," Simonne said softly, her thumbs gently gliding over his cheeks. There was a faint smile at the corner of her mouth, and so many things going on in her eyes. This time, some of them were good.

"Mm, you just...haven't said. Anything..." He paused and swallowed, then bluntly stated. "I wish. Mm, I knew what was going...on. In, mm, your mind right now."

"Moi, aussi," she admitted with a rueful laugh. "Ah, Richard...I zink I am quite a mess. Half of ze time, I do not know if I want to laugh, or cry. My zoughts, zey still circle in my head, but I have been trying to keep zem in, I do not wish to worry you, or Emma or Etienne. I do not wish to get caught in zat endless confusion." She looked down at him, her thumbs still caressing his face. "Ze only zing I have been sure of ze entire time, mon amour, is how I feel for you." She saw the way his eyes widened when she used the phrase 'mon amour', and it made her smile widen slightly. "When zey...when I knew what was going to happen, I remembered ze wall you had been behind when I met you in Atlantic City. I...tried to make somezing like zat, to keep part of me away from what was happening, tu sais? Mais...it was not a wall zat I made...I ended atop ze Eiffel Tower, and you were zere...you held me, and you told me zat it would be alright, you would keep me safe, and...I zink zat is why I panic if you are gone for too long, even if I try not to. Ze zought zat you loved me got me zrough zat day, it was ze only zing zat kept me from completely shattering, possibly giving up and dying on zat floor. I love you, _Ree-shard Air-oh" _

Oh, his name from her lips was still the most wonderful thing he ever heard. Especially when it was right behind that phrase he never thought someone would say to him.

"I have been trying, very hard," she continued, "too be happy and...how I should be. Sometimes, it is how I feel. But sometimes, I...I do not feel like I can laugh, even zough I know you want me to. I want to be happy for you, mon amour. I want to make you laugh and be happy. But sometimes I can not, and..."

"What happened to, mm. Not conforming to what the. World expects of you?" he asked softly. "Wasn't that. Mm, the gist of. What you told me?"

"Oui, mais..."

"Don't, mm. Tell me it's...different for me, mm." She closed her mouth and looked embarrassed. "Simonne. Mm, you need to. Not worry so much about making. Other... people happy, mm. And worry more. About making yourself happy."

"But making people happy makes me happy," she stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Mm, but what. Do you do for...yourself, mm? What else makes you happy?"

"Well, I like to read. And zere is nozing better zan a nice hot bath."

"And?"

"Well, ze ballet, of course."

"Mm, does it. Really?"

"Oui," she said. "It brought me to you, did it not?" Richard smiled and nodded. His knees ached from being on the snow covered ground for so long, and he was fairly certain his lower legs had fallen asleep, but he didn't care at that moment. He wanted to melt into Simonne's hands. Something about the way she was caressing his cheeks was so soothing, he almost wanted to purr.

"Mm, what else. Do you do. For fun?"

"Well, I...read. I take walks...I...clean. Since Etienne is nice to let me stay with him, it is ze least I can do. I also..." Here she fell silent as she tried to think of something else to add. Richard watched her patiently. After some time she realized there was nothing that she really ever did for her self, and she looked at Richard, who was still kneeling in front of her.

"Oh, stand up, s'il vous plait. Too much time on your knee in front of me and I may develop a goddess complex." Richard made his way to his feet, shivering as the cold wet fabric of his pants brushed against his skin. "Mm, I think. Occasionally, you may need. mm. A little worshiping," he told her, shaking his legs a little as blood flow returned below his knees. "You probably. Mm, deserve it, on occasion." Very slowly, he brought his hands up, gently began rubbing her arms. "You need, mm. to...worry more about yourself. Mm, and don't act like. You're happy. If you're not. Mm, it's okay, sometimes, to feel sad. It's natural. And, mm understandable."

"Mais..."

"No buts," he said. "Mm, Were you, mm. Always happy?" he asked softly. "Mm even before...?"

"Non," she admitted.

"What did, mm. You do when you. Were sad?" When she said nothing, Richard said "You, mm, faked it then, too?" She nodded and looked strangely guilty. "Oh Simonne," he said softly, slowly wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into an embrace. It felt so good to be in his arms again. "Mm, I know why you. Mm. do. What you can to. Make others happy," he told her, rubbing her back. "And I think, mm. Your father is a. Fucking asshole...mm...excuse my French...for not loving you for. Mm, the wonderful woman. You are."

"Oh mon amour" she said with a laugh. "I have heard your French. Zere is no excusing it. It is atrocious."

"Mm...there is at. Least one...French thing I mm, think I do well," he said, putting his fingers under her chin and tilting her face up. Very slowly, very tenderly, he brought his lips to hers as well as he could with his mask on. He felt her press against him, felt her hands slowly move to free the wire from behind his ears. They moved apart just far enough for him to pull his mask off, and their slow kiss resumed. He let her take it as deep as she wanted, as fast as she wanted it to deepen. In a way, it was similar to the first kiss they had ever shared, new uncharted territory. It wasn't a kiss of unbridled passion. It was a kiss of newly declared love, of trust, of understanding and hope. It was one more step in Simonne's healing. Knowing Richard did love her, was able to look at her with desire proving her attackers wrong, went a good way towards settling her. With his arms around her, his lips dancing with hers, she felt certain that in time, and with this magnificent man with her, she would find herself again.

Back in the city, Richard and Simonne stopped at a tavern for a quick drink to take the chill from their bones. After, they walked a little, enjoying the snow-dusted city, enjoying being together.

It was as they were heading back to the car when Simonne suddenly stopped in her tracks and stiffened. Richard looked at her, noted her eyes were wide and all the color had drained from her face. Her hand trembled against his arm, and she was whispering something softly.

Richard had heard it often enough to know she was in her 'Tower loop'...he pulled her into his arms and whispered that he was here, she was safe...all the while wondering what had set her off so suddenly. One moment she was laughing, the next a trembling wreck. 

"Mm, it's okay," he soothed. "You know no one. Can hurt mm, you. While I'm here." He gently rubbed her back, pulling her to the side and out of foot traffic. "Tell me, mm. What's wrong...mm in English please?" he asked when she spoke French.

"I see one of zem," she whispered against his shoulder. "Zere, in ze brown coat. Walking towards us." She buried her face in his chest and pressed against him. Richard moved them closer to the building they were in front of, blocking any view of Simonne from anyone who might be looking. Specifically from the short, weaselly looking man Simonne had indicated. He watched the man as he approached and felt that calm murderous rage settle upon him. Army training kicked in, and he began logically thinking through different scenarios. Obviously shooting the man right there on the street was out, which he had to tell Simonne when he felt her hand reaching inside his coat to get at his gun. Logically, the best plan would be to follow him, see where he was going, maybe he would end up in a secluded spot where he could be dealt with. He glanced down at Simonne, who was also following the man with her eyes. Although she stilled trembled against him, Richard saw a strange, almost disturbing glimmer in her eyes. He'd seen that light before. It had been in Jimmy's eyes when he talked about killing Liam, way back in Chicago, and it had been there when Richard and Jimmy had gone to kill Jackson Parkhurst. It was a need for revenge.

"Mm, should we follow him?" Richard asked her softly. "Oui," she hissed through her teeth. She would have practically run after the man had Richard not held her arm tightly with his own and kept her to a normal pace. "I can not see him," she said. "He might get away."

"He, mm, won't," Richard assured her. "Mm, I still see him. Try to, mm. Keep calm. If we rush after him, he, mm. Might see us and we don't. Want that." How many times had Richard's life depended on his remaining unseen? More than he could count. And while the city streets of Paris in no way resembled the woods and fields he had silently slipped through while he was in the army, he couldn't help but fall back on his army training. If it wouldn't make him more obvious, he would probably be dashing from one point of cover to another as he stalked the man. But a six foot tall man wearing a tin mask could not easily slink from light post to mailbox for cover on a crowded street in late afternoon sunlight, especially not with a lovely lady in tow. Not without drawing attention to himself. And the last thing a marksman did when he was on the hunt was draw attention to himself.

The man ducked into a tailor's shop. Richard and Simonne waited outside for him to emerge. Simonne leaned against a light post and pulled Richard into a kiss, which surprised him at first, but made sense when he realized her eyes were slightly open and she was watching the doorway for the man to come back out. Richard admired her quick thinking in the situation. And when the man did come back out and continue on his way, Richard and Simonne followed him again, although Richard wouldn't have minded staying by that light post a little longer kissing Simonne. But then again, back in the war, he would have liked to have remained in camp with his brothers-in-arms rather than wander lonely from blind to blind on his missions. Of course, kissing Simonne was much more enjoyable than jokes and battle tales.

Richard had to shake his head to bring his mind back to what it should be on. _Concentrate, Harrow. _He mentally scolded himself._ This isn't just you in danger. Simonne is in it too, and it's your duty to keep her safe._

The followed the man down a side-street, into a residential neighborhood filled with grand townhouses. There were fewer people about in this neighborhood, so Richard and Simonne fell back further, although their quarry was still in sight. He turned and walked up to one of the homes, letting himself in the front door, closing it behind him. Richard and Simonne kept walking, just two young lovers enjoying an evening stroll. Richard was actually scanning the area, looking for someplace he might hide, take the man out when he next emerged, or perhaps find a spot he could...no, he was thinking of taking the man out at a distance, maybe while he was in front of a window, but since Richard's long range rifle was tucked away all cozy in his closet in Atlantic City that wasn't going to happen.

"I am zinking our only option would be to knock on his door and just shoot him," Simonne said, her thoughts in the same spot as Richard's. "But zat seems very risky."

"Mm, it is," Richard agreed as they crossed the street and walked back the way they came.

"What would you adivse, zen?" Simonne asked. Richard thought things out and finally said "We should, mm. Wait. We know where he lives, now. Mm, it won't be hard to...oh. Mm, here he comes."

Sure enough, he came out of his house and started walking down the street. Richard and Simonne paced themselves accordingly. They followed him for quite some time, Richard asking Simonne if she knew what the layout of the city was in this area...any lonely alleys, dark shadows, or the like nearby? 

"Zere is an empty building, about two blocks up. It used to be a bookstore, a very interesting one at zat, and ze owner, he was such a nice man. He would always set aside books zat he zought I might be interested in. Mais, ze building caught fire some time back. Luckily no one was hurt."

Richard asked her to describe it as best she could, asking certain details and finally deciding, when she said, yes, she knew a back way in, that it would probably work for what needed doing. He laid out his plan to her, she listened intently, nodding that she understood. "Mm, stay calm," he cautioned. "And if you can. Mm, try to...detach yourself from it." He wasn't sure if she could do that, given how personal this was. But he watched her eyebrows draw down a moment in thought, and her eyes went flat. She looked at him with an expression he recognized from himself so many times before kills.

_You forget the human ability to adapt, _he had told Emma that night they had gone to dinner, speaking of Simonne. It seems he had forgotten, too.

"Mm, I'll be right behind you," he told her. She nodded, set her shoulders, and quickened her pace. Richard unbuttoned his overcoat and his suit coat, reaching in and gripping his gun.

Simonne hurried to catch up to the man, slipping her arm into his suddenly, making him startle a little. He looked at her, and when he recognized her, a sleazy grin spread across his face.

"_Remember me, monsieur?" _Simonne asked, her voice as flat as her eyes.

"_Dubois' little plaything,"_ the man replied. _"Don't tell me you're wanting more?"_

"_Oh, I want something," _she told him, ramming her gun into his side. _"And I'm sure you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed what was done to me." _

"_You're going to shoot me? I doubt that. I can easily overpower you."_

"_I know. However, there is a very angry, armed man just behind us. Turn down this alley. You might get past me, but you would never get past him. You see, that is my solider boy lover, as you kept calling him. Did I mention, between my screams, that he was a marksman?"_

Simonne guided the man down the alley, then paused in front of a door, which Richard hurried and kicked in.

"_Go in. Now," _Simonne told the man, pushing him through the door with the muzzle of his gun. The interior still smelled faintly of smoke and water. It was almost completely dark in the room, the floor littered with ruined books and other debris. Richard followed Simonne and the man into the building, keeping his gun trained on the man, just in case he did try to get past Simonne. But other than that, Richard did nothing. This was all on Simonne. And she quite surprised him when she quickly pulled the gun from the man's ribs and shoved the barrel into his mouth.

"_Enjoy sucking on this, you bastard," _she stated. She gave the man less than a second to process the situation before she pulled the trigger. He fell to the floor, the back of his head completely gone. Simonne looked at the body for a moment, much like she might look at a festering pile of garbage laying on the sidewalk; part interest, part disgust, and a good amount of 'this affects my life in no way what so ever'. She gave a small shrug, tucked the gun away in her pocket, and took Richard's arm, leading him out of the building, through the alley, and onto a completely different street than they had been on. They took an indirect path back to the car, both of them calm and unruffled. Richard helped Simonne into the car, but before he shut the door, he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

"Mm, you did. very well," he told her.

"I had a very good teacher," she told him with a smile and a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "We should probably get home before our siblings zink we have run off and joined ze circus."

Richard walked around the car and climbed in behind the wheel, marveling at the fact that Simonne had brought herself back completely from that detachment she had put herself into. He would have to ask her how she did that. He would also have to poke a little fun at her for sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she had pulled the trigger. But then again, who was to say the Angel of Death couldn't be adorable?


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Wee bit of filler. There's not too many more chapters to go (3, the way things look right now, maybe 4, although it could be as few as 2, depending.) They will be much more interesting though. Thanks again for the reviews. They're always appreciated. **

Emma and Etienne could tell that something had changed between Richard and Simonne. The tender glances and small touches between the two were back, and it seemed they had come to an understanding between them. This eased Emma's mind considerably, for as she announced that night at dinner, she had to get home soon. "I wish I could stay longer," she admitted. "But I've already been here a week and a half longer than I had planned and I feel bad for being gone. Plus...I'll be honest. I'm homesick." She gave a rueful smile and a shrug as she glanced down at her hands. Richard put his arm around his sister's shoulders and gave her a hug, understanding how she felt. How many times had he longed for home since he first left for training? Strangely, he felt a pang of homesickness as well. Perhaps it was more a longing for a time before his life had become so complicated. He didn't know for certain, but he knew that if the call for home ever became to strong to ignore, Emma would welcome him with open arms.

Simonne and Emma went to the bathroom before the left the restaurant. "Emma?" Simonne said as soon as they were in the bathroom, "I am so sorry zat I have taken up so much of Richard's time. Zis was supposed to be a chance for ze two of you to spend time togezer, get to know each ozer again. I did not mean to ruin zat."

"Stop, Simonne," Emma said, firmly but gently. "You didn't ruin anything. Richard and I have had plenty of time to talk and reacquaint. To be honest, too much time together might ruin what we've formed the past few weeks. We've gotten to a comfortable point between us, and we'll let it go where it will. But I know you've needed him, Simonne. And while that would have bothered me before, it doesn't now. I want the two of you to be happy. Let him do for you what you've done for him, okay?" Simonne nodded. Her guilt wasn't entirely assuaged but she felt a little better for apologizing. "Good," Emma said, hugging Simonne. "And know that, even if you never become my sister by marriage, you'll always be the sister of my heart."

"Oh, I wish Etienne could fall in love with you," Simonne said as she hugged Emma back. "We could be sisters twice over."

Emma laughed. "True. But to be honest, I could never marry a man who cooks better than I do."

"I, however, have no choice in zat matter. If I am ze best cook in ze relationship, zen we will starve before our first anniversary!" Simonne replied with a laugh.

"Then aren't you lucky I taught Richard to cook?"

"Zat depends," Simonne said, somewhat cautiously. "Do you know somezing I do not?"

"Nothing definite," Emma admitted as they pulled apart. "I do know he loves you. And I think I still know him well enough to say that, for as...non-traditional...as your relationship currently is, he will eventually rectify that." At least, Emma assumed he would. Why else would Richard have asked after their mother's ring. That wasn't the kind of thing a man just randomly wondered about, was it?

They left the restaurant to discover it had begun snowing again. The fat flakes gently drifted down, once again covering the city in a soft white blanket. Still feeling guilty for monopolizing so much of Richard's time lately, Simonne made a point to grab Etienne's arm so Emma and Richard could walk together. She received the same side-smile look from both Harrows. She and Etienne fell a few steps behind Richard and Emma.

_"How're you feeling?"_ Etienne asked his sister.

_"I'm alright,"_ she said. _"I still have my moments, but...I think I'll survive."_

_"You've already survived, Simonne. Now you need to go back to living."_

_"I'll get there, Etienne. I can't right now, not fully, knowing they're still out there. But once I've taken care of them..." _

_"About that,Simonne... I know you think you need to do this yourself, but as your brother, I have to insist that you don't. You don't know how killing a man can affect you. You think I'm too gentle for it? What about you? I at least was in the army..."_

_"You don't understand, Etienne," _she said with a shake of her head. _"You may want to understand. Maybe you think you do. But you don't. You can't. I swore I would kill them all. I let you have Louis... I knew you would be appalled that your best friend would first rape me then come to tend to me like he was concerned. And I figured you and Richard could stand to release some anger. But the rest are mine, Etienne. I killed one of them today, and it felt good. I enjoyed knowing I was delivering that man's soul to Hell. And so help me, the others will follow."_

Etienne was taken aback by the fierceness in his sister's demeanor. Gone was the girl who wanted only to make people happy, the girl would could never even bring herself to kill a spider. So many things that Etienne wanted to say but he could voice none of them. He took his arm from Simonne's and put it around her shoulder. _"I seem to be running out of big brother things to do for you, silly girl," _he said in a light tone _"You're able to fight your own battles, you've got another man to take care of you. My little sister is all grown up." _He couldn't keep the note of sadness from his voice.

Neither could Simonne when she spoke. _"I didn't want to."_

"_I know. I didn't either. But it happened regardless. I suppose it's for the best, though. Much like fine wine, I'm sure our magnificence will only improve with age." _

"_Pfft," _Simonne snorted. _"If I become any more magnificent, I'll have to go into the heavens because I will outshine the sun."_

Etienne's roar of laughter made Richard and Emma look back over their shoulders for a moment. They smiled and turned back around, resuming their conversation.

"I still think you should have told her sooner," Emma said. "It might have helped her to know right after how you feel."

"Mm, just tell me. I'm an idiot and, mm. Be done with it."

"You're not an idiot, Richard. You're a man. There's a difference." She paused and looked thoughtful, then added "I think."

"Mm, thanks, sis." Richard rolled his eye, although he couldn't suppress his grin.

"Glad to help, brother dear," she laughed.

They cut through a quiet park on their way back to Etienne's apartment. No one was entirely sure who started it (no one would admit to it) but someone threw a snowball, and an all out battle ensued. It was loud, it was silly. It was cold, but it was filled with laughter. It was a needed relief for the four, a chance to forget everything and just have fun. People passing by couldn't help but smile at the scene. Some were envious of the fact that these four people seemed to have no cares in the world, others wished they could drop their worries for a short time to play in the snow. For the Harrows and Delacroix, it was a much needed relief. And when they finally called a truce, their cheeks were flushed and they were breathless with laughter. When they got to the apartment, and changed into dry clothes, they sat in the living room, and Simonne finally gave Richard and Emma their Christmas present.

"Better late zan never," Simonne said as the twins carefully opened the boxes Simonne had handed them. They pulled the contents out, looked at it, looked at each other, then looked at Simonne. They each held a sun catcher that was shaped like a long bar with a smaller bar coming from the middle of it. The pieces were mirror images of each other, shape wise. The piece Emma held was a vibrant red, Richard's a striking blue.

"Hold zem togezer," Simonne prompted. Emma and Richard did so, and discovered that the shapes formed an 'H'. "It was my zought zat, some day, zey will hang togezer in the kitchen window on ze farm. Until zen, you each know zat ze...ze...ozer half of your wholeness is out zere."

Richard and Emma shared a looked that said more than any words could, and they stood up and hugged Simonne.

"It is not a stupid gift?" she asked somewhat nervously.

"No," Emma said. "It's...honestly it's perfect. I mean..." She was at a loss for words. The symbolism of the split 'H' was perfect, the hope that one day the two pieces would hang side by side a sweet thought, and the significance of it being a sun catcher was not lost on Emma or Richard. "Thank you, Simonne," Emma said, not even bothering to hold in her tears. "For everything. I sincerely mean that. Thank you."

* * *

><p>Simonne strongly suggested that Richard spend as much time as possible over the next few days with Emma, so the Harrow twins did just that, walking around Paris, talking about way back when and speculating on what might come. Richard managed to find the Opera house, and Emma saw it in sun-touched splendor, and Richard suddenly had a good idea about what his face had looked like when Simonne found him gawking at it that first day. Emma was left speechless, which Richard understood, but when she finally did find her voice again, she said "Do you think Simonne will ever go back to the ballet?"<p>

"Mm, I don't know," Richard admitted as they began walking again. "Mm, I'm starting to wonder if. It's really something she wanted to. Do, herself, or if, mm. It was a way to. Try to get her father. Mm, to notice her." He remembered asking Simonne what made her happy, and how ballet came almost as an afterthought. Did it truly make her happy anymore? Did it ever? Had it gone from a way to get her father to notice her to a way to escape her life? He didn't know, and wasn't sure how to ask.

"Did you want me to send you Mom's ring?" Emma asked, interrupting his train of thought.

"Hmm? What?"

"Mom's ring? You were asking after it a few days ago. I was wondering if you wanted me to send it to you? Or were you just randomly nostalgic over something Mom only wore to church or other special occasions?" She had a playful smile on the corner of her lips, and Richard wondered if Emma had been spending to much time with Simonne.

"Oh. Mm, don't worry. About it, mm. Right now. Simonne and I, mm. Need to figure out. Where we go, next." Sure, the thought of proposing to Simonne had crossed his mind on occasion, but it was never a serious thought. Right now, Simonne was rather single-minded with her need to kill her attackers, so Richard didn't think she would even noticed if he were to ask her right now. And then there was the issue of, would she come back to Atlantic City with him? He wasn't sure on that, and he had yet to find a way to broach the subject.

"Are you killing the men who attacked Simonne?" Emma suddenly asked. More proof in Richard's mind she had been spending too much time with Simonne. Usually Emma would work into a conversation like that.

"Mm, no," Richard answered honestly. "Well, mm, just Louis. That was, mm. What Etienne and I did. That night we. Mm, went out."

"Given your, ah, skills and employment, I would think you'd be hunting them all down."

"I, mm, didn't say. We weren't."

"But you and Etienne haven't gone back out together," Emma said, puzzled. "Just you and Sim...oh! No! Simonne? Is she...doing it?" Richard nodded. "But she...she's..."

"She's, mm, a fast learner," Richard said. "And, mm, she has to do this. Mm, herself..."

"Did your friend Jimmy not cross your mind?" Emma hissed. "Didn't he say the same thing right before he got himself killed?"

"Mm, yes. But Jimmy. Didn't take me. With him, mm. Simonne does. She knows, mm. This is dangerous, and that. She's not completely suited for it. Mm, I know it's wrong. But she asked for. Mm, my help, and I couldn't. Say no." He paused for a moment, then looked Emma directly in the eye. "I'll keep, mm. Her safe," he swore. "Even if it's, mm. The last thing I do."

_That's exactly what I'm afraid of, _Emma thought, although she held her peace. "I know," she said instead. "Just don't let it come to that, okay?" Richard only nodded. They walked a little more, content in their silence, until Richard said "Been, mm. Up there yet?"

Emma stopped and looked. "Oh my! No, I haven't," she said, taking in her first clear sight of the Eiffel Tower.

"Mm. Come on, then."

Emma was speechless as she looked out over Paris. It was amazing to see such a large city spread out before her.

"Mm, blows away the. View of the pasture from, mm. The barn roof, doesn't it?"

"Entirely," Emma admitted. "This is...I would never have imagined!" She looked at the panoramic view of the city, the snow covered rooftops sparkling with sunlight, the bustle down below that from atop the tower seemed so unreal, the way the landscape seemed to stretch forever. It was the most breathtaking thing Emma had ever seen.

* * *

><p>When they saw Emma off at the train station, Simonne fell into tears when she hugged Emma. She apologized again for ruining Emma's trip and taking up so much of the time Richard should have been spending with his sister. "Wasn't it you who said not to apologize for things that don't need apologizing for? You haven't taken all of his time, anyway." she smiled at her twin. They had had some good conversations, some wonderful time together, and moments where it seemed the old bond had never broken. "So don't worry," Emma said turning back to Simonne. "But do me a favor," she said conspiratorially. "Keep an eye on Richard for me, okay? He's good at taking care of himself, but I worry about him. He tends to worry more for others, you know?"<p>

"I will keep an eye on him as best as I can," Simonne promised. She had no idea how she would do so once he left Paris. And she knew he would be leaving soon. He had called someone in Atlantic City the night before, and he'd been told he had better have his butt on a boat in the next week, or else. Simonne had enough understanding of Richard's world to know 'or else' wasn't a good thing. which meant she either needed to finish her revenge soon, with Richard's help or do it on her own, even though the very thought of it petrified her.

Emma next hugged Etienne, who she now considered a great friend, given the amount of time they had spent together. "If you're ever in Wisconsin, you're more than welcome to visit. I think I promised to teach you to churn butter."

"You did, belle Emma. And someday I hope to take zose lessons." He gave her a friendly squeeze, then whispered in her ear "Should I warn Richard zat I plan to pack Simonne in his trunk so she gets out of zis place? Or should I let him be surprised?"

"I think he might be planning something similar," Emma admitted "Because he doesn't think Simonne will leave because of you. And maybe the ballet, but he isn't sure. Something about it not being the first thing that came to mind when he asked what made her happy, or something. Anyway, thank you for letting me stay with you, and for the recipes, and...well...everything."

"It was my pleasure, belle Emma," Etienne replied. "We will write, oui?"

"Of course," Emma said, moving from his arms into the arms of her brother. "You'll write when you get back home?"

"Mm, yes."

"You know the farm's there, whenever you're ready."

"Mm, I know. Maybe in a few months, mm. I can at least. bring my half-H to visit yours, mm. If things work out."

"I'd like that," Emma said. "Just let me know. I suppose I should get a phone line run out..."

"Mm, worst invention. Ever," Richard said. "People can disturb you. Mm any time they like. Where they, mm, used to have to. Actually visit."

"Well if you're not going to call you had best visit sometime." She gave him one last squeeze before she stepped back, picked up her train case, and stepped aboard the train. Emma hung out the window as the train pulled away from the station, waving to her brother, the woman she would call her sister no matter what, and a man she almost considered her best friend, strange as that was. Although she was sad to leave them, she was eager to get back home, even though that would still be about two more weeks of travel. But still, she had been to Paris! Her brother loved her again. She had seen so much...she hoped life on the farm wouldn't be dull, now.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Thank you for reading! **

"Do you not get tired of watching me do ze same zing every morning?" Simonne asked Richard as she went through her stretches.

"Mm, no," he told her. "I would probably, mm. Grow tired of sunlight. Or breathing. Before, mm watching you. Move like that gets boring."

"Pfft, zey are just stretches."

"Mm, but they just flow. Together like...a stream, mm. Meeting a river. It's...beautiful. It's, mm. Probably the. Closest I'll get to. Mm seeing you dance."

"You will see zat someday, mon amour," she told him as she swept one leg out and up so it was behind her. The grace, the balance, the control of her movements...it was the closest thing to perfection he could imagine. He had not entirely gotten over the guilt of reacting to her physically, so he dragged a pillow in front of his lap and watched as she brought her leg back down and arched her back, arms stretched above her head. _Ah...there's a mental image that will come in handy tonight,_ he thought. His before bed routine now included masturbation along with going to the bathroom and brushing his teeth. It was the only way he could avoid turning into that 'plank of wood' when Simonne cuddled up beside him. And if she kept bending like that, he was going to have to take five extra minutes in the bathroom this morning in order to get through the day. Why had he never taken advantage of her limberness? His mind went on a nice tangent of bending her backwards, nipping lightly at her neck, feeling her body pressed against his as he...

"I have seen zat smile before," Simonne teased. She straightened and turned around, that grin on her lips and that light in her eyes. "What are you zinking, mon amour?"

"Umm...well, mm...things I shouldn't. Be thinking."

"Like what?" She slowly crossed the floor to the bedside, trailing her fingers across his stomach. Even through the fabric of his undershirt he could feel the heat of her fingertips. "I know what you are zinking right now," she teased, pulling the sheet down. "You are zinking 'Mon dieu! Why must she tease me so? Zere will be no intercourse yet she seems to go out of her way to arouse me!" Her fingers were slowly working his underwear down. "I am right, oui?"

"Mm...pretty...much..."He cut off when her fingers brushed his tip, very lightly, so teasingly. He wanted to tell her to stop, that she didn't need to do this, as much as he wanted her to do this, but when he opened his mouth to speak, she silenced him with a kiss. Her hand crept lower, firmly gripping his length she slowly started stroking him. He lost himself in the feeling of her hand gliding up and down, the brush of her hand over his sensitive head, the way her tongue flitted in and out of his mouth. The only thing that detracted from it all was a loose tendril of her hair that was annoyingly brushing his empty eye socket, tickling it slightly. He brushed the hair away, tenderly cupping the back of her head. She was working him to the cusp, he could feel it building quickly...her stroking him off was so much better than him doing it himself...he was just about there...

A knock on her bedroom door, and suddenly it opened. "Simonne, someone is here to...oh. I did not realize I was interrupting."

"Stop staring, Etienne," Simonne scolded as Richard hurried to pull the sheet back over himself. Sure, Etienne had already seen everything there was to see, but Richard still felt uncomfortable with another man staring at him like that. "Oh, uh...sorry," Etienne stammered looking away quickly. "But zere is someone here to see you. I can keep him occupied for a few minutes, if you need to finish what you were doing." Simonne looked at Richard, who shook his head. Despite the fact that Simonne still held him, he'd gone soft as soon as Etienne got an eyeful.

"Who is it?" Simonne asked in a slightly testy tone. She was very close to making Richard happy, so it had better be good.

"Monseiur Le Marche," Etienne replied. "I zink you should come talk to him. Both of you."

"Oui," Simonne said with a sigh. "Let us get dressed. We will be zere shortly." Etienne nodded and closed the door as he went back to the living room. "Squishy," Simonne said, somewhat playful, somewhat disappointed. "Not because of somezing I did, I hope?"

"Mm, no. I really like, mm Etienne. But I'm not. Comfortable knowing that he..." Richard couldn't even comfortably finish the sentence.

"Ah, I see."As long as she hadn't done something wrong...she wanted Richard to be happy, she'd been so close to making him happy, if he was happy then she was doing something right if he was happy she could be happy so she had to make him happy and she'd been so close to making him happy all she had to do was make him happy should she tickle him to make him laugh if he laughed he was happy and she really needed to make him happy because if he was happy then ...

"Mm, come back, Simonne," Richard said gently. He could tell she'd gotten stuck in one of her loops. They happened less frequently than they had right after her rape (so Richard thought, at any rate. She had gotten half-way decent at suppressing them) but she did get caught in them occasionally. "What's wrong?" She blinked at him, then looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry," she said. "Zat one got away from me."

He softly traced her jaw with his thumb. "Mm, what set that off?" he asked, as he did whenever she went into one. He hoped that, by figuring out what caused them, they could work her out of them completely.

"It is because I could not finish what I started. I was hoping to make you happy. Oh!" she said as something came to mind. "Etienne told me once zat if a man is very close to his orgasm, but it does not happen, zen it will hurt ze man. Should I not finish?"

"I'll, mm. Be fine," Richard said, tempting though the offer was. He stood up and went to the closet to grab some clothes. "Mm, it's not a. problem I've ever. Experienced." He slipped into a shirt and then a pair of pants.

"And how many times have you been to zat point and been suddenly interrupted?" she asked as he moved in front of the mirror to button his shirt.

"Mm, well. There was this one night. In Atlantic City where, mm. Someone ran out...on me in a. Fit of anger." She at least had the decency to look contrite as she walked up behind him and stood on her toes to rest her chin on his shoulders, wrapping her arms around him and rubbing his chest with one hand and his stomach with the other.

"I do not zink one time is enough to know for certain," she said as her hand slid lower. "I would very much hate to cause you pain." It didn't take long for Richard to spring back to life beneath her touch.

Simonne watched his face in the mirror, loving the way his eye slowly fluttered shut, the minute twitches of his cheeks, the pleasure filled smile that played at his lips. She could feel his heart racing beneath her hand as she began kissing his neck.

Richard was lost to the sensations her touch invoked. She was quickly building him back to the point he had been before, brushing her thumb across his head with each upsweep, tightening her grip just slightly each time her hand came down. He was about to tell her he was close to exploding in her hand when there was a knock on the door, and it burst open once again.

"Oh, ah..."

"_Damn it, Etienne!" _Simonne yelled as she searched for something she could throw at her brother. Richard quickly tucked himself away and fastened his pants, aware that Etienne had a clear view of him in the mirror.

"_I just wanted to see what was taking so long! Hurry up, would you?" _He pulled the door shut as Simonne threw her hairbrush at him. She let out a string of what Richard assumed were curses before she turned to him.

"Can we finish zis later?" she asked. Richard nodded, and finished getting dressed. Simonne threw on a dress and some shoes and quickly fixed her hair, and they went out to the living room.

Maurice Le Marche stood and hurried to Simonne as she stepped into the room. He stood arms length from her and looked her over from head to toe, then gently placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed each of her cheeks.

"_Simonne. I am glad to see you are up and about. We've missed you."_

Richard looked closely at Le Marche as he conversed with Simonne. He hadn't changed since Richard saw him in June. Not what one would consider tall, Le Marche was a relatively trim man, probably nearing seventy, with thick salt and pepper hair, lines around his eyes that indicated he laughed often, and much to Richard's surprise a very easy grin. Richard's eye fell to Etienne, and it widened. When Etienne caught the look, he gave a small shake of his head, then turned to Le Marche and Simonne.

"Why don't we sit down?" Etienne suggested. "And, for Richard's sake, we should converse in English. Zis involves him as well."

"Ah, yes, Monsieur Harrow," Le Marche said. "It is good to see you again. I was very sorry to hear of Monsieur Darmody's passing." Richard gave a small nod of acknowledgment, and moved to sit beside Simonne as she sat down on the couch. There was an awkward moment of silence before Le Marche said "Etienne has told me what has happened. He came to me to see if I had any information on ze men who attacked you."

"Why you, Monsieur Le Marche?" Simonne asked. " I know you move alcohol, zis is how you know Richard, mais...you are an accountant."

Le Marche and Etienne exchanged a glance that only served to puzzle Simonne more. Richard was surprised she didn't see the resemblance, like he had, but maybe because she had known both men for so long, often seen them together, she was used to it.

"I have been working for Monsieur Le Marche for many years," Etienne explained. "Even before I joined ze army. He knows many zings, many people. Working for him, I have dealt a few times with two of ze men who attacked you, Marchant et Duchamps. I figured he might be able to help you get to zem. He might also know where to find Pierre Lafleur."

"Etienne tells me you are wanting to get to zem in ze next week," Le Marche cut in. He was so calm and logical about it that Richard wondered if he often had ballerinas go off on murderous revenge sprees.

"Oui," Simonne said. "Richard must leave by zen, and I would prefer to have him here while I am killing zem,"

"Plus when he leaves you are going to be on zat ship with him," Etienne said. Simonne raised an eyebrow at her brother. "What? You can not honestly tell me zat you're going to stay here when Richard returns to America! Why would you? Zere is nozing holding you here, and zere is every reason to go home with ze man you love."

"I am not arguing with you, Etienne," Simonne replied. "But did it ever occur to anyone to ask me? I am tired of people deciding zings for my life. Do you zink I am so incapable of taking care of myself zat I have to be told what to do? Were you planning on stuffing me into Richard's suitcase before he left, in case I said I would not go?"

"It had crossed my mind," Etienne admitted. "But you have said nozing about your plans..."

"Because right now my plans don't go beyond killing zese men!" She took a deep breath and went on in a more reasonable tone. "I cannot go on with my life, here or any where else, while I know zose men still walk around. I can not imagine I am ze first one zey have done zis too. I doubt I would be ze last if zey go unpunished. And, even zough you do not believe me," Here she glanced at Richard, then Etienne, "I still believe Dubois will try to kill you."

"Given what I know of Dubois," Le Marche interjected, "zat would not be surprising. I have done some background research on him, after Etienne told me what was done to you, Simonne. Believe it, gentlemen," he told Richard and Etienne. "Dubois is looking to gain control of Delacroix Railways. He already has four trucking companies, three small shipping fleets, one of ze companies contracted for road improvements along leading out of Paris. Zere are ozers, and zey all seem to be related to transportation, and zeir acquisitions all seem questionable. To gain your father's company will give him almost total control of transport in France." Simonne glanced at Richard with a 'See? I told you!' look in her eye. Richard acknowledged his mistake by slightly lowering his head. He would apologize later.

"So Etienne really is in danger?"

"Oui," Le Marche said with a sigh.

Simonne stood and started pacing, a look of intense thought on her face.

"It will take too much time to find zem one by one," she said. "Zere must be some reason to get zem all in one place. Perhaps with Papa zere, as well...if we can get zem to confess..." She chewed on the knuckle of her finger as she thought. Richard watched her carefully, wondering if she was trying to keep herself from falling into a loop. Finally, she stopped and faced them, saying "I have an idea, mais...it may be very silly. Ze sort of crazy plan zey would do in a book..." She hesitated, then laid it out for the men. Le Marche saw no problem with it, although Etienne thought one thing needed changing. Simonne was against it, until Richard said Etienne's change would make it more likely to work. Simonne stated she was not happy with it, but agreed in the end.

* * *

><p>"Mm, can we go. For a walk?" Richard asked Simonne later that day. She nodded and went to tell Etienne they were leaving while Richard grabbed their coats. When they stepped outside, he asked Simonne if she could lead them someplace quiet. She nodded and took his arm, leading him along. As he had hoped she would, she soon lapsed into chatter as they walked. She led them to a small park...really nothing more than a few benches beside a path across some grass, but it was quiet.<p>

Richard had spent the entirety of the walk planning what he would say and how he would say it. He sat down next to Simonne and took one of her hands in his. As soon as he did, that well-rehearsed speech fled his mind, so he simply said "Mm, I love you. I don't know, mm. If you've given any. Thought...to what. Mm, you'll do, once you're done, here. But, mm. If you want. I would. Love if you...mm, came back. To Atlantic City. With me."

"I would love to, mon amour," she replied, "Mais...what would I do zere? I do not want to be...useless."

"Mm, you wouldn't be," he assured her. To be honest, he almost wanted to introduce her to Capone and Luciano. He had a feeling she would run circles around the two of them, and for some reason, he really wanted to see that. "Mm, I've come to the conclusion. You can do. Anything, mm, you set your. Mind to." He absently ran his fingers over the back of her hand as he spoke. "Mm, you never. Fail to amaze me. I want...mm, to spend. The rest of my life. Making you, mm. Happy." When she smiled, her entire face lit up, and for a moment, Richard was afraid his heart would flutter itself out of his body.

"Oh, mon amour," she said, kissing him lightly. "Let me make you happy, and I will be happy, zen we will both be happy."

If only life were ever that easy...

For the rest of the afternoon, Richard and Simonne walked around and enjoyed being together. They walked with their arms around each other, occasionally stealing a quick kiss, and at one point, Simonne pulled Richard into an alley and finished what had been interrupted twice already. While it was not the ideal location, lacking in comfort and romance, the spontaneity and the impropriety was erotically intoxicating, and Richard's knees nearly gave out as he came in her hand.

"I suppose zat is one way I can make myself useful," she mused with a grin as he tucked himself away and fastened his pants. "Mm...yes..."Richard said as she proceeded to lick her hand clean. He wondered why he found that so sexy. He wanted to touch her, caress her, bring her to the pinnacle of pleasure, but he sensed she wasn't ready for that just yet. So he kissed her, offered her his handkerchief to finish cleaning her hand, and they slipped back into the flow of pedestrian traffic to continue their stroll. They grabbed a quick lunch, then continued their leisurely walk. Richard would have considered it a nearly perfect day. But when they got to the building Etienne lived in, they discovered an agitated crowd outside of the building, along with an ambulance and a slew of police. Simonne immediately tensed at the sight.

He wanted to say that maybe something else had happened, a robbery or a domestic spat gone too far, but he said nothing. He knew what had happened. So did Simonne, and he would not give her false comfort, that would be insulting her intelligence. One of the neighbors spotted Simonne and made her way through the crowd. She murmured something to Simonne as she wrapped her into an embrace. They spoke briefly, then the neighbor called out to one of the policemen who hurried over to join them. He questioned Simonne, who was pale and numb-looking, her voice flat. The policeman then turned to Richard and spoke to him. "Mm, I don't. Speak French." _How many times have I said I needed to learn it?_ Simonne translated back and forth. As the conversation went on, Simonne leaned more and more on Richard. She felt very tired, very old. She felt heavy somehow, like something was pressing down on her, crushing her. Another policeman joined them, asked more questions, asked the same questions Simonne had just answered for the first officer. More questions from a detective. As Simonne answered him, she felt one of her loops trying to set it. She tried to suppress it, the last thing she needed right now was to have the police see her start ranting, they would think she was insane and lock her in an asylum, which was not part of the plan at all and if she couldn't follow through with the plan she wouldn't be able to keep Etienne safe but she hadn't kept Etienne safe had she she was supposed to keep him safe but she hadn't kept him safe had she she ...

Suddenly collapsed against Richard. The neighbor laid into the police for stressing the poor girl out with endless questions that did nothing to find out who had shot such a sweet boy as Etienne as Richard caught Simonne and picked her up, holding her limp form against his chest. The neighbor beckoned for him to follow, and she yelled a path through the crowd as he followed her up to the apartment across the hall from Etienne's. She motioned for him to set Simonne on the couch as she hurried into the kitchen, emerging moments later with a damp cloth, which she placed over Simonne's forehead. Richard stood out of the way, feeling small and ineffectual at the moment. The woman disappeared into the kitchen again this time coming back with a glass of water, which she set on an end table. She then sat beside Simonne and began rubbing one of her hands, singing some soft, soothing song in a gentle imperfectly beautiful voice. Simonne slowly stirred and opened her eyes. She sat up, took the glass of water and drank slowly.

They stayed with the neighbor for almost two hours while the police finished their work in Etienne's apartment, chatting as lightly as possible about things that had no importance. Finally, a young officer knocked and asked to speak to Simonne, who stepped into the hallway with him for a few minutes. When she came back into the apartment, she told Richard the police would let them into Etienne's apartment so they could grab a few personal effects. She once again thanked Madam Marceau, and they ducked across the hall to gather their things. They tried to avoid seeing the signs of what had happened, the over turned furniture, the broken glass, the bloodstains on the floor. The hurried to Simonne's room, threw a few things together, and hurried back out as quickly as they could.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Just assume that from the moment Simonne steps into the parlor, everyone is speaking French. I tried putting all the French in italics but it got to be too much. (So of course Richard has no idea what anyone is saying. But he's an intuitive fellow. He can figure it out.) **

Simonne's apartment wasn't at all what Richard expected. He had imagined something much plusher...thick carpets and billowy curtains, soft couches and lots of pillows. Rooms with lots of windows, decorated in bright colors. But to his surprise he discovered that her apartment was nothing but a good size room above an apothecary, sparsely furnished, rather drab, very reminiscent of where Richard lived.

"Mm, you really did, mm. Ruin your kitchen," Richard said, eying the burnt stove and wall behind it.

"Oui," she said with a small laugh. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I should make ze phone calls." The tone of her voice said she'd rather do anything but.

"Mm, it's not. Too late to call. This, mm. Off," he said, turning so he could hold her. "We can. Mm, find some other way..."

"No, mon amour," she said, gazing up at him. "I want zis to be over. I am tired of it all. I want to be able to...get beyond zis. I want my life back, I want my life with you to begin." Richard laid his hand against her face, softly caressing her cheek. He simply nodded and kissed her forehead.

"Mm, make your calls," he told her. "I'll, mm. Make sure everything. Is ready to. Mm, go."

She first called Maurice Le Marche, and he said he would have Marchant and Duchamp at her father's house as soon as possible. After that, she called her father, but got Marie instead, which was exactly what she wanted.

"_Oh, Marie! It's terrible! Someone...someone broke into Etienne's apartment. He's been shot...I...I...please, can you tell Papa? Oh, Marie, there was blood everywhere! I...there are a few people I must call. I will come over...as soon as..." _She choked back a sob, took a deep breath, then continued. _"Will you...please, can you call Monsieur Dubois? If he is to be part of our family, he should...he should be with us, during this tragedy...Oui, merci Marie."_

She hung up the phone, and looked at Richard.

"Mm, did she buy it?" he asked as he handed her a gun.

"Oui, alzough when I told her Etienne had been shot, she seemed genuinely surprised. I do not know if she is not aware zat zey were planning to kill him, or if she is just shocked zat it had been done but no one told her. It does not matter. I am sure she is calling Dubois right now." She checked the gun, not that she didn't trust Richard to have loaded it properly, but because he had trained her to always check a gun someone handed you because you couldn't really trust anyone when it came down to it, then she tucked it into her pocket, where she would be able to easily reach it. "We are ready?" she asked Richard as he finished tucking his Colt into his holster. He nodded and helped her into her coat before he put his own on.

When they arrived outside of the house Simonne had grown up in, another car had just pulled up, and Le Marche stepped out._ "Simonne, how are you holding up?"_ he asked as he embraced her.

_"As well as I can,"_ she replied. She pulled out of his arms and eyed the group of men with him. _"What's all this?"_ she asked.

_"I'm not leaving anything to chance. They'll go in with you. They'll escort your two...friends...in, then stand by. I've told them this is your job, they will only take action if you are in danger."_

Simonne look at Richard questioningly. "Mm, where are we. Likely to, find Marie and Dubois?"

"Hmm...probably in ze parlour. Zat is Marie's favorite room." She described the layout of the room, and Richard told the men how they should arrange themselves.

"I will find Gerard," Le Marche said. Richard thought the older man seemed more excited about that prospect than the situation warranted, but there was more to the story than Richard knew, so maybe it was logical for Le Marche to look like a child who had just been given free run in the candy store. "He will eizer be in his bedroom, or his office," Simonne said to Le Marche. "You know where zey are?"

Le Marche nodded. "I spent many hours in zis house, before you were born," Le Marche informed her. She simply nodded, then turned her gaze to Le Marche's car. "Bring zem out," she said to one of Le Marche's men. Wordlessly, while some of his cohorts moved in to cover the car with their weapons, the man opened the back door and reached in. He grabbed a handful of jacket and pulled, bring the first occupant out of the car and practically flinging him towards the sidewalk. He man was bound and gagged, looking more irate than frightened. One of Le Marche's men grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the car. The second man, also gagged and bound, was pulled from the car and brought to stand next to his friend, Le Marche's men surrounding them, weapons drawn and aimed at them.

"Hello,gentlemen," Simonne said, standing before them. Richard watched the men carefully, his Colt trained in their direction. He had to fight the urge to step between them and Simonne to shoot them where they stood. He knew she would never forgive him if he did. It wasn't that he thought she couldn't handle it. It was the fact that he knew she could that frightened him. Watching her, standing in front of two of the men who had been so cruel to her, she could have been discussing the weather for as calm as she was. But the fact that both men paled as she spoke was proof that her topic was much less mundane. She finished her conversation with a blood-chilling grin, then she turned and started up the walkway to the front door. She didn't rush, but you could tell she walked with a purpose, and the set of her shoulders boded ill for anyone or anything that stood in her way. Richard and Le Marche followed after, Le Marche's men following with their captives.

Inside the house Le Marche broke from the group and headed upstairs. He checked the bedroom, then Gerard's office.

_"What are you doing here?"_ Gerard asked when he saw Le Marche in the doorway.

_"Good to see you, too, son,"_ Le Marche replied as he stepped into the office and drew a gun. _"Actually, __I'm here because I don't think you've been paying much attention to what's going on with your children."_

_"I know what happened to Etienne!"_ Delacroix cried. _"My poor boy..."_

_"Pfft. Your poor boy. And what about your poor girl? Talked to her lately?" _

_"Why should I? It's probably her fault Etienne is...is..."_

_"Get up, Gerard,"_ Le Marche said, pointing the gun at Gerard's chest. _"You're coming downstairs so you can see what your lack of caring has done to Simonne. Best hurry, you don't want to miss a moment of the excitement. You'll find it enlightening." _Gerard looked at the older man, grief stricken, tired, almost past the point of caring. _"I said get up, Gerard." _Le Marche stepped around the desk and pulled the younger man to his feet. With his gun pressed against Delacroix's back, Le Marche led him down stairs to the parlor.

* * *

><p>Simonne strode down the hall to the parlor, as calm and unruffled as a breezeless day. No stress, no panic, no emotion. That was how Richard had taught her, and since she had sworn to listen to him in this, that was how she would be. She'd been afraid, before the first killing, that she wouldn't be able to detach herself from what needed to be done. But she discovered she could go up the tower in her mind, watch events unfold from a distance, keep herself detached from it. She was fairly certain that this ability did indeed put her into the realm of 'crazy' but she would worry about this later. Right now there was killing to be done, revenge to be exacted, and then she could get on with her life of making Richard happy.<p>

She quietly stepped to the door, which was only partially shut, and paused to listen to what was going on inside. Two voices Simonne recognized as belonging to Marie and Dubois. They were in a heated argument about Etienne's shooting, blaming each other for moving ahead with the plan before things were ready.

_"I told you to wait until the bitch was pregnant!"_ Marie yelled. _"What happens if Gerard up and dies on us in the meantime?"_

_"First of all, I didn't order the hit, Marie. Second, I suggest you make sure your dear husband doesn't die in the meantime." _

_"If you didn't order it, and I didn't, then who did?"_

"_Could have been Pierre," _Dubois thought out loud. _"Maybe that's why I haven't seen or heard from him in a while?"_

"_Please. That man is so stupid he couldn't find his cock with well written directions. And he wouldn't think to look for it without your permission." _Simonne heard her sigh and begin walking. _"I suppose there's nothing to do for it now but carry on. That means getting Simonne to the alter, and pregnant as soon as possible."_

"_I don't see that being too much of a problem. When she gets here, we'll drag her to the church and get married immediately. I'll have fun working on the getting her pregnant part."_

Simonne turn to look at Richard, who had been standing beside her and had heard the conversation, although he didn't understand any of it. He looked quite ready to go in and start tearing pieces off of Pierre Dubois. She understood the feeling, and was looking forward to the release killing the last three bastards would grant. But what about Richard, she wondered. He was just as angry as she. How would he get his relief? She touched the side of his face, guided his head down so she could whisper in his ear "If it will make you feel better, mon amour, and if you promise it will hurt zem very much, I will let you play along."

Richard felt an odd mix of emotions at her words, which in itself was troubling because this wasn't the time he normally felt emotion. This was when he was at his coldest, most detached state. But her words sent a surge of excitement at the thought of truly getting back at the bastards, along with a mix of sadness that she could use the word 'play' in such a serious situation. There was also a strong rush of lust, for her tone was so close to the playful tone she often used when they were intimate. She smiled at him and kissed him. When she backed away, her eyes were flat, but she was smiling. "Let's, mm. Go have some fun," he whispered back, surprised that he actually meant it, actually saw what was about to happen as something more than just want needed to be done.

That frightened him.

* * *

><p>Simonne nodded, took a deep breath and gave the door a hard push, causing it to hit the wall.<p>

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked as she walked into the room. Marie and Dubois startled and looked at Simonne.

"Simonne, my dear, you must be distraught," Dubois said, approaching her with his arms out, as if he planned to give her a comforting hug.

"Get back," Simonne told him, bringing her gun up. Dubois paused in mid-stride, his mouth hanging open. Richard and the rest moved into the room, bringing Marchant and Duchamp in and shoving them towards Dubois and Marie before they arranged themselves as Richard had instructed.

"You know, had anyone asked me about this engagement before it was so rudely sprung on me, I would have gone along with it," Simonne said as she walked back and forth. "Even though I would have been miserable, I would have done it for the good of the family. But no one thought to ask me, and I'll be honest, I am through...oh, hello Papa. Please, come in and join us. Perfect timing...I don't want to have to repeat this."

"What the hell is going on Simonne?" her father yelled. "Who are all of these people and why are they in my house?"

"I was getting to that, Papa," Simonne replied, turning to face him. "Sit down. I'm sure you'll find this interesting." Le Marche pushed Gerard Delacroix to a chair and forced him to sit in it, keeping a gun pointed at his head the entire time. "Now,"Simonne went on, "there is much to be said, and I'm going to start off by saying that if you interrupt me, I will shoot you. At least three of you," she looked at Dubois, Marchant and Duchamp, "will not be walking out of this house alive. I see dear Papa has no idea what is going on. Let me explain, then. You see, Monsieur Dubois here took me to visit some of his friends after you announced our engagement. If it had just been to share the news, we would not be here. But, my dear fiance and his friends proceeded to rape, beat and torture me..." One of the bound men, Marchant, tried to say something around his gag. Simonne faced him and shot him in the thigh. "I told you I would shoot you if you interrupted me," she stated as he fell to the floor, writhing in pain. His cries were muffled by the gag, and his instinct to clamp down on the wound hampered by the rope binding his wrists behind his back. Simonne gave him a brief glance then looked at the others. They were all shocked, and Simonne's complete calmness disturbed them greatly. "But, that's not your concern. While I was laying mostly unconscious on the floor, I over heard Dubois telling his friends his plans." Simonne stood next to her father and began explaining. "You see, he and Marie are brother and sister. She's the one who gave him the information he needed to get a hold of the family debts. What he ultimately wants is control of the company. He was going to marry me, get me pregnant, then kill Etienne, and I wouldn't be surprised if you also met an untimely demise."

"She's lying, Gerard," Marie said to her husband, pleadingly. "I'm sure the stress over Etienne's death is overwhelming her, and you know she's been pouty since we announced her engagement..."

"Pouty?" Simonne asked. "And when have you talked to me in the past month to discover I've been pouty?"

"Well, Etienne said..."

"Don't lie, Marie," Simonne said. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't have solid proof of what I'm saying."

With that, Le Marche reached into his pockets and pulled out a packet of papers that he handed to Gerard. "Read them, Papa," Simonne told him, her eyes never leaving Marie. Gerard gave a cursory glance at the papers, but something caught his eye, and he started reading fully.

"While Papa digests all that," Simonne said, slowly walking to Marchant and Duchamp, "I'm going to deal with you. I had thought about trying to pay back every ounce of pain and humiliation you put me through...hot pokers, broken glass rammed into places on your body nothing should ever enter, kicks, punches...you were there, I'm sure you remember. But then I wondered, if I did that, would that make me as bad as you? Because to be honest, the thought of exacting revenge excites me, and I don't think it should. So, be happy that I'm simply going to shoot you." And she did, two bullets, one in each man's head, the center of the forehead for Duchamp, through the temple for Marchant. She looked at both corpses briefly before turning to Dubois.

"You don't get off so easily," she told him. "You wanted to kill my brother. You wanted to ruin my father. You would think, given that Papa doesn't even like me, that I wouldn't care about that. But I do. Not that I need another reason to kill you. I'm pretty mad about the rape, of course. But that you wanted to kill Etienne? That doesn't sit well with me at all."

"I swear, Simonne, I had nothing to do with his death...Yes I discussed it but I didn't do it..."

"Oh, I know," she said. "You were going to wait until we were married and I was pregnant to kill him. Even though it was unnecessary, since Papa changed things..."

"He changed them back," Dubois said. "He's been grooming Etienne to take over for years. Yes, he was upset that Etienne was gay but he still wanted him to take over the company. That's what Marie said, anyway. That's why I had to marry you."

"Well, none of that really matters now, does it? Oh, by the way, do you see that tall, handsome gentleman over there, looking like he could give less than a fuck about your life? That is Richard Harrow. This Richard Harrow," she said, pulling the dog tag from beneath her dress. "I  
>should thank you. My 'soldier boy lover' will always be close to my heart, thanks to you and your friends."<p>

Richard was watching the situation carefully, aware that if something could go wrong, it would be soon. Dubois had just seen two men shot, was aware that the same fate awaited him, Chances were good he would do something rash and stupid, and it would probably be directed at Simonne. He was proud of her. She was handling this well, and surprisingly, she wasn't dragging it out. Richard knew she wanted these men to feel as much pain as she had felt...hell, Richard wanted them to feel that pain as well. But she had taken the more merciful, or perhaps more practical, road and just shot them. Nice clean shots, both of them. She'd learned well, even if she did stick her tongue out while she did it. Richard gave one last fleeting thought about how cute she was when she did that, then put his focus back on Dubois. Simonne was still talking to him, pointing at Richard and pulling out the dog tag. Richard wished he knew what she was saying. He probably didn't need to know, his job was to watch for any signs of danger. Speaking of, what the hell was Marie doing? She was trying to unobtrusively slide away from the group. Ah, she was moving towards the fireplace. Richard kept his focus on her, although had she looked, he would still appear to be focused on Simonne and Dubois. He had no depth perception any more, but his peripheral vision was fantastic, and he could see her quite well from the corner of his eye. He watched as Marie reached for a fire poker and slowly slid it from the holder. Marie looked at the crowd thought she was unobserved, and slowly started moving back toward Simonne. She started to raise the poker. That's when hell broke loose. Le Marche's men had stood by until then, but when they saw Simonne was in danger they acted. Unfortunately they all acted at once, and all opened fire on Marie. Simonne was caught in the middle of it all.

It took a second for Simonne to realize what all the noise was. When she did, she tried to drop to the floor, but Dubois used her distraction to lunge at her. She gave a startled squeal when he grabbed her hand, trying to get the gun away from her. Richard's attention was immediately drawn to them, and he raised his gun and fired off two quick shots. The first, because he promised Simonne it would hurt, was aimed at Dubois' crotch. The second took the man in the throat. Dubois looked stunned for a moment, crimson blood pumping rapidly from his wounds. Then he crumbled to the floor, lying dead beside the bullet-riddled body of his sister.

It was terribly quiet after that. Everything was still, no one dared say anything, barely took a breath. Simonne turned to face Richard, a stunned look of disbelief on her face. He quickly crossed the floor and wrapped her in his arms.

"It's, mm, all over," he told her as she pressed her face against his chest and took a deep, shuddering breath. Then he simply held her, his cheek against her hair, her arms around his waist. They blocked out the world for a few moments, wishing they could block it out forever.

"_Ah, Gerard...look at them. I see a lot of you and Antoinette when I look at Simonne and her beau. You would have gone to great lengths to make Antoinette happy, just like that young man would for Simonne. It's a shame you've ruined any chance to truly know your daughter. She's a wonderful young woman. Very similar to her mother. But Simonne has a strength that Antoinette did not. I know you loved my daughter very much Gerard, but you all but threw away the last gift she gave you. All Simonne ever wanted was your love."  
><em>

Gerard Delacroix could say nothing, shocked as he was by everything he had just seen and discovered. So he only nodded and looked at his daughter, held in the arms of the quiet man with the tin mask, and he wondered how he had managed to lose everything in his life in the span of a day.

"_By the way, Papa," _Simonne said from the comfort of Richard's embrace. _"Etienne is not dead. He was shot, yes, even though I would rather he hadn't been, but as he pointed out, I wouldn't have been able to lie well enough to Marie if he hadn't been. Monsieur Le Marche will explain it further." _She looked up at Richard "Can we go home, mon amour?" Richard nodded and walked with her out of the house and into their new life together.


	19. Author's End Note

I was going to post one more chapter on this, but I'll roll it as a prologue to the next story in this series.

What I'm curious about is this:

I've never given a good physical description of Simonne. Partially because she was just going to be a one-shot character when she popped into my head. Partially because I never really had a good idea in my head what she looked like, and partially because I was curious to see how you pictured her, especially now that you've read 3 stories with her.


End file.
